I hate to be the one
To write poetry about you at 1am.
Because I do this every year, every season.
Listening to the same old songs with different thoughts.
Different memories.

How did we go from stare-downs
To sleeping together again?
And why does it still hurt the same.

Why can't I learn to forget the way you looked at me
When I talked about the ones who hurt me,
And remember how you turn your back to me
When someone enters the room?

Because I know. I know it'll never work.
I never said I even wanted it to.
But I just want time, a look, a word, a thought.
I just want a piece of you.
And not the piece that turns away
When someone enters the room.

I just want to let go and move on.
And to just say "no" again.
Because I love your storm cloud eyes.
And I love your touch to my skin.

You are no good for me, so I've been told.
So I've always known.
So I bleed these words down where they'll be heard.
But, baby, nobody. Nobody. Nobody knows.

So I'm sorry. And I'm scared. And I told you so much.
Now you touch my wrist because I said it scares me.
But not as much
As it does to know you know, and do it just because.

And I promise I'll write down every word you say.
I'll hang on to the memories for as long as I can.
When I'm laying on the bathroom floor alone,
High on pills, and drugs,
And heartbreak and love,
I'll remember the one time you told me you love me.

It's 1am and another poem is down.
Something that makes no sense and has no worth.
Just like me to you, at 1am on Friday night
Holding your hand and listening to songs
In the light of the lake and the confusion of us.

1:01am
And it still hurts the same.