Wishful thinking inside a dank apartment.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
You take the good you take the bad, you take them both and there you have, the facts of life...the facts of life.

Submitted: April 13, 2008

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Submitted: April 13, 2008



Last night was almost
a great night.
But my nervous twitch
allowed for nothing

Day dreams end at sleep
and im so tired of trying
to fight it away.
Leaving with the sun,
you drove away to
some random town
to drink random drinks
and think random thoughts.

We are too close to compatible and
I’m just excited to hear from you but
the noise of a college bar
drowns out the otherwise beautiful
voice you sing with.

Like a fool I smile when we hang up.

Bellowing this murderous voice
I wonder aloud
“Does she really miss me?”
Answering the question
with the opening of my own
bottle of beer.

You slurred your hello
but managed goodbye just fine.
That’s about right for a girl
your age I suppose.

Tethered to a picket fence post
sits this battered
heart of hearts.
Dripping from its wounds
It screams at the rubber necks
walking their dogs slowly
on the side of walks
so they have time to take a shit.

Racing with the possibilities
I always end up last.
Once again believing too much in
the spoken word .

So easily attained am I
It’s almost pitiful.
Falling in love with
pillow talk whispers
and morning blow and go’s.

Hank did always have it right.
At least I’ve learned it young.
The church bells have fallen
It’s another one of loves victims.

“You make this so hard”
She says.

Keeping a casual
limited to heavy hand holding
leaves both ignored and
I am in it for the connection.
The idea of a partner
Is always better than
actually having one
and anyway,
You look so good
on top of this pedestal
I created for you.

So dial with drunken
fingers late.
Spill courageous emotions
while you have the warmth
of a crutch allowing you
the amnesia you need for
tomorrow’s encounter.
Tug at the strings
you know you hold,
the ones you know
lead to me.
So, when you arrive at my door
with the stain of the last night
still hanging over you
you will be able to look me
in the eyes and slather together
some whispers to keep me quite
and to keep all unasked questions

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