The week has left me broken and sore
I can’t smell you on my pillows any more.
Time to get back and make me forget
The mess I was before we met.
It’s more than a simple addiction
But I wouldn’t call it a bad kind of affliction.
No longer any kind of productive
Because just the memory of you is seductive.
It’s easy to see that I’ve got it bad
After this short time you’re the best I’ve ever had.
But you can trust me not to say a word
Until when you come forward with what needs to be heard.
A pro when emotions need to be hidden
Maybe some day for this I can be forgiven.
Instead I’ll tell you how I feel with my slow blinks
And random thoughts that slip out when we drink.
I normally write bad poetry only when in the angsty phase of getting over a breakup. I made the best grades in my English and music classes after being dumped. (Some semesters I just needed someone I cared about to dump me). I woke up this morning with this rattling in my head and it’s the first, non-angry thing I’ve ever written that wasn’t forced. I wonder if that’s a good sign for my situation…