Maybe if I changed my name to Amber and grew bright blonde hair
maybe, I'd be the girlfriend instead of the friend
Maybe if I got a little dumber, fixed my hair a little prettier
washed it, prepped it, even more than I had
Maybe if I had danced around you, frolicked even
Screamed your name when we slept together.
Maybe I'd be the bride, instead of a dreaded bridesmaid
Yes, you. I'm calling you out on it
Consider this the poem throughly written
Of all the things I couldn't say in person
This is for all the sleepless nights, strange exchanges,
not returned phone calls,
and that dumbass look you gave me in the bookstore
-after we had broken up
This is for the time you cheated, the moments I waited,
and the consuming plague of denial in between.
Maybe I'll always remember the moments I projected myself.
In front of that mirror- Analyzing, Asthetically, Apathetically.
Wishing I looked more like her: dumber, blonder, possibly whiter.
Just to have it back to the way it was.
Maybe if Mom hadn't had cancer and it wasnt my first semester.
If I had worn a different dress, that day we met
or if I had changed the arrangment of my life.
It wouldn't have ended, the way it did.
Maybe there is no such thing as forgiveness.
There isn't that promise,
We were just, inevitably destined to be a distant melody,
where the instruments don't collide any longer.
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
 | Yesterday-Maybe Yesterday, I was in the library studying for exams and this poem came to me. Let me further state that I haven't written a poem in a little over a year. It's just about a relationship from the past, years ago and how you wonder and analyze. |
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