This is a drunk poem
A drunk poem full of corrected typos
And sloshed feelings
This is a drunk poem about
How its not fair the way we look at each other
And how I’m scared people will think I look too much
The truth is I have feelings and I’m pretty sure you do too
I’d say let’s cut to the chase but that
Would mean excluding the other half of you:
Why do I let myself fall for the
Douchebags. It’s not fair.
I am my own worst enemy
I just wish I was smart enough to soberly see that you and I aren’t good
But drunkenly, we’re great––
We stand in the kitchens and talk
And you call me beautiful.
Estoy muy linda. Tu sabes eso? Porque yo no creo que si.
And I melt.
I melt for your stupid face and length words and angsty heart.
But that’s at night,
When the strees are quiet and the stars shine bright.
In the day we’re simply two students
Merely two friends with a connection unrecognizable to the straight seeing eye
So does that mean it’s real?
Because then you always disappear and I
Only see traces of you.
Your touch burns hot against my skin
You will never understand how hard I tried not to let you in.
I was hurting and had shut down but you held me.
In that kitchen.
You held me and told me I was beautiful.
But what’s the point?
It’s college and you’re leaving.
It’s college and I’m staying,
Our heads screwed on in two different directions.
I’ve never been a sad drunk until you.