Casual

I wish I could be casual about it;

I wish I could master that

As if it is something to be mastered.

To be a master at this

    is to be very skilled

    at hurting myself.

    And other people, too.

But I'm sick of waiting for that

    one.

    perfect.

    person.

To the point that I would be with a thousand half-perfect people

    to entertain me while I wait.

I'm sick of building my character through patience.

    I want closeness

    the feeling of being wanted

    the power of occupying someone's thoughts

        anyone's thoughts

        everyone's thoughts

What good is the wait

    when I can have half-perfect right now?

I do it Over and Over

 I wasted so much time thinking about you:

    time I'll never get back.

You should be flattered.

You should also be surprised, though,

Because surely you know 

That you are only mildly interesting.

I know I'm surprised.

Surprised that I assigned such hope to something so hopeless,

once again.

I mean, I guess I do it all the time

-over and over-

And I'm shocked anew each time.

I do it because of the longing

the wanting without having

reaching, grasping

gasping

for ultimate and all-consuming connection

It's a hope that I hold onto

even though all it does is hurt me.

And I know this.

And I've known it all along.

Flashes in the Pan

 Don't flatter yourself.

We were never friends

        Any more than we were lovers

        (And we were never lovers either).

We are just convenient acquaintances

    who partially enjoy each other

        every once in a while.

And no matter how many times we reconnect,

we will always fall apart.

Our baseless relationship

    washing

        away into exactly what it should be:

Nothing.

Not even a firm cutoff

with closure.

Just a slow, gentle washing away

Every time we fade, I miss parts of you.

You have these bright shining moments

    -flashes in the pan, if you will-

that disappear as soon as they surface

And then you move in to kiss me

without ever telling me why.

That's the part I'll never get.

I thought you saw me the same way as I saw you.

Drafting a Note

 As I draft a note expressing remorse and asking for forgiveness,

A Short Poem for a Crappy Person

 This poem is going to be short

and probably shallow

and stupid

and a waste of everyone's time

and just generally unpleasant

        in reflection of the time we spent talking

        which was entirely unpleasant

            and a waste of my time

            

            and perhaps yours too

And I just want to say is 

All you have is a nice body

And I guess some charisma

But you have no drive

No follow-through

No ambition

And I have no time for that.

Funeral

 My dear,

I can't even have a funeral for you - 

    a day where everyone says nice things

    and where people offer sympathy

    and say

        "this must be so hard for you"

          or

        "anything we can do"

    and where I can bury you

                and grieve you

                and move on.

Instead, people say things like

        "this might not be the hardest thing that ever happens to you"

           and

          "I've been through hard things, too"

And I have to - get to?

      see you every so often

       so that I can never quite move on.

I failed you and blessed you in one single action

I lazily surrendered the life I gave you

        to someone else

        who will never understand what they took from me.

Much love xoxo

God You're Cute

 When I think of you I think of the lyric,

"You're not good for me/

But baby I want you"

Funny thing is,

    you are good for me

    and I don't want you.

The funny thing is you're not even particularly remarkable

I always laugh too hard to make up for our awkward silences

I am not truly at peace when I am with you

But God.

You are cute.

Today I'm not thinking of you much.

Other days I think of you a lot

        Longing for some connection that we don't yet have

            may never have

        Longing for what could be,

            if everything goes a very certain way

The thought of romance

    Unlikely

    Foolish, even

But I wonder, and I dream it nonetheless

It comes in waves,

    this wanting

    this wondering

Does it cross your mind?

Do you dream it too?

A Memorial to the Date that Crashed and Burned

 To The Date, that crashed and burned over the course of a week

And also shamelessly wasted my time:

My dad wants me to meet a nice boy at church.

    He prays for it actually.

And instead, I met you.

It could really only go one of two ways

And so it is that I avoid you now

Every Sunday morning.

        Which requires much more skill

        Much more shameless espionage skill

        Than you might imagine.

I will never know what made up your mind about me

Mostly because I will never ask you,

Because I value the opinions of my close friends

    Of which you are most certainly not one.

I do think about it from time to time

    Perhaps more than I'd like to admit

        I think I laughed too loudly

        Drank too much

        Told you scary things about myself

        Texted too often.

Or maybe you think Jesus told you not to date me

Which means I really dodged a bullet

Because Jesus would never say that to anyone.

I don't enjoy rejection

Not any more than the next person, I guess

It makes me feel better about that to call you an asshat

(Jury's still out on if you actually are)

Maybe you're salty that I didn't get drunk enough to go home with you

Or that when we got back to my car, I didn't invite you in

In which case I Really dodged a bullet

99% of me knows for certain you don't know what you're missing

And the other percent knows that you don't deserve it.

And I'm always right.

Fake Fireplace

 You lit a candle because you like company
Also because you think I'm hot.

I gave myself to someone who is not my future.
Not even close.

Not amazing beyond my wildest dreams

Or really even thrilling

    in the end.

I love a good thrill

You will always be my sexy pool boy.  Irresistable

Pouring my drinks for me - rum and cola

    Always a little too strong.

I'll miss you

    your boring, passionate ramblings that I pretended to like

    sleeping over in your guest room

    your looping fireplace video

        meditative videos of the northern lights

But I won't miss the torture

    of my thoughts:  sinking into your arms

    knowing it was wrong,

    hoping it was right

You were never my future - 

    not even a friend really

You were always more fun when I was drunk

I needed to say no

Close the chapter

Needed it; didn't want it

Decisions are often painful

    and so it was this time:

I wanted more:

More sex

More messages

More attention

        I threw myself in

        Ignored the signs

Smoke signals of attachment

Flags waving in my face (red ones, of course)

I wrestled

Thoughts consumed my nighttime walks - impossible to ignore.

even my body felt it:

    tight chest

    sinking stomach

Being with you wasn't even that good.

        Not fulfilling

        Not uplifting

        Far from peaceful in my memories.

But it was the world

            for a time

    My whole world.

    

Decisons can also be powerful