TheBig3

Sing I guess poems still count, I wrote this because I feel like i want to puke. Instead of that, and with no one to vent to, I wrote this(and obviously I made the title up when I realized MB makes you have one):

Outside of my window a thousand women scream and bang for my attention,
And inside my room a thousand friends implore me to act my age.
“If I was your age…” they tell me
“You’d make the same mistakes you did the first time” I tell them
They give me a quizzical eye and tell me im an “odd duck.”
The drink the wine of a thousand foreign lips and wear their
Hangover as a badge of honor. It’s a good lead to a better story.
I slip out the back door for a ciggerette I don’t smoke and wonder
If they’re right. They tell me I’m wasting my time, and I hope they’re wrong.
A thousand women outside my window and the only one I want isn’t there.
Your memories would have faded but I know your face at least twice a day,
And all night long until I stop staring at the phone and drag myself to bed.
“You move too fast” she once told me, and I was crushed then. Now her words haunt me and I apply them to you. I can’t help but think I should be up front and honest. History tells me that only a fool who wishes to be alone is honest. What do you say when “I love you” doesn’t fit. What do I write that isn’t too fast?
Sometimes, when I can’t sleep my thoughts become reality in the darkness,
“god I need you” as if you would hear me. Maybe I hope it makes things better.
It never does. You can feel the scars throb when its said outloud. The old scars grow cool on the skin, like a subtle head-shaking-reminder.
I can’t breath with a broken heart tonight, and again I’ll drag myself off to bed
And hope my fan drowns out the city outside of my window.

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