This poem isn't about me, or anyone i know, but rather its a conglomeration of people, and mostly its just fiction, but something a lot of us have gone through at some point or another. I wanted to try a different writing technique, so this is writing in 3rd person POV, just for kicks.
______________________________________________
She checked her watch and sighed.
He's not coming again.
She felt a heaviness in the pit of her stomach,
But couldn't pick herself up off that barstool.
She flagged the bartender and thought to herself,
He's pretty cute, if nothing else works out...
But even those thoughts were swallowed with her pride in a glass of rum and coke.
She traced a groove in the wood with her finger,
Not noticing she was crying until she saw a single tear
Fill up that gap in the wood
And there was no sense in sitting there anymore.
She got up, left a five under the glass,
And stepped out into the night.
It was a warm midsummer night,
But she shivered and wrapped her arms around herself,
And stared at the stars as she walked to her car.
Another night forgotten.
She was fumbling with her keys when he tapped at her window,
And through smeared glass there was that smile,
That damn smile,
That could always make her forget all the pain
And she rolled down her window without hesitation.
He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek,
And it was just like they had just left off yesterday,
But in reality, she hadn't seen that face in almost 2 years,
And it hadn't changed one bit.
He wasn't the type to bother with smalltalk.
He reached in as if to hug her,
But pulled her out through the window with ease.
There, standing before him in an empty parking lot
Under a perfect night sky
In some unfamiliar town
There was exactly 13 inches between them,
And she could smell Lifesavers on his breath,
And he noticed that she had cut her hair,
And he still wore the same cologne,
And she had somehow gotten more beautiful,
But he would never tell her that.
He tugged at her sleeve and she didn't question him.
They walked in silence to the end of the parking lot,
And there was a bench there, so they sat.
He looked at her and wanted to tell her about all these things
About his new girlfriend,
Well ok she's not new, he'd been fooling around with her
Before the two of them had even ended things,
And she wanted to tell him about her new house,
And about her new job that was finally going to get her out of this city,
But they just sat, drowning in each other's eyes,
Until she had to look away.
It was a long drive here.
She got lost 4 times and almost turned back,
But there was never any turning back when it came to him...
Except always.
He could always tell her what she wanted to hear
So when he told her that she looked great
She smiled smugly and told him that he looked great too
But what she really meant was,
You're still exactly what i fell in love with,
And i fucking hate it.
There was a groove in the wood of this bench too
And her fingers found it and began to nervously trace it,
Except that she wasn't nervous,
She was avoiding looking at him with all of her being,
And he, he was trying to figure out how to tell her he was getting married next month.
A strand of her hair fell across her forehead in such a way
That he had watched it do 2 million times over,
And she noticed that he was wearing 2 different socks and thought,
Thank God i dont have to pick those up anymore.
When he finally spoke it was about this and that
And she heard none of it.
She was intrigued by a fray in his shirt
And all she could think was,
She should have had a few more drinks before doing this.
He wanted to tell her that he was ok now,
And she wondered to herself "i wonder if he's ok?"
cuz she could never tell if that smile was real or fake,
real or fake just like his excuses,
So she decided that he was probably miserable,
And she had a brand new car where her and her boyfriend would drive and drive,
Listening to music he could never stand,
And he asked about her dog,
And she told him the dog was great,
But the dog was dead,
And it didn't matter anyway...
He was rambling now about people she didn't care about,
And she was concentrating hard on that groove in the wood.
He hated lying to her, but he felt this need to protect her from bad things,
And then they were sitting a little closer,
And he was looking at her as she talked,
Memorizing the color of her new eyeshadow and some new creases in her features,
That he wondered if they were from laughing or crying.
She looked over at him and felt uneasy at how he was staring at her,
But she let him because, he was never going to see her again.
He playfully grabbed her side and said "You've been working out, huh"
But she was actually pregnant,
And she hadn't been to a gym in months.
"Yeah" she lied.
There was no talk about what brought them here.
He had called her a week ago and told her to meet him here,
And she had said she'd see if she could find the time,
But really, she had to cancel appointments and put off important things to be here,
But that was nothing new.
He wasn't sure why he called her here either.
He obviously wasn't going to tell her about the engagement,
Or about anything for that matter,
But it was good to see her,
And it was good to see him,
And so they sat,
Under a perfect midsummer sky and lied to each other for a bit more,
And it was great. It was great.
Somehow his hand found hers
And that was ok.
Holding hands never hurt anybody.
He was trying to get the courage up to tell her that he was leaving for San Francisco
But it didn't matter anyway,
She had made up her mind not to see him again after tonight,
Even if he called again,
Which he wouldn't.
She was trying to think of a way to tell him that she hated him,
But it got lost in rememberance.
His wife-to-be was gorgeous
And she was no Cindy Crawford,
But there was something about her that was
familiar and pretty,
And sometimes pretty is better.
And she never really thought he was the most handsome guy,
But his features were familiar and nice,
And sometimes nice is better,
And she could trace them all day long,
Just like the groove in the bench.
When there was nothing else to say,
He took to leave,
And put in her hands an envelope.
She retrieved from her pocket a tiny box,
And gingerly handed it to him, emotionless.
They said a polite fairwell that didn't do this meeting justice
And each walked into a different direction into the perfect night.
She had promised herself not to look back,
And so had he,
But they both did,
And laughed a nervous laugh,
And she put out her arms to hug him,
Just in case she never felt that again,
Which she was sure she wouldn't,
And he let himself into her arms carefully,
Holding his breath and hoping it wouldn't feel...
like that.
She felt him sigh,
He felt a warm tear on the back of his neck.
He looked at her,
3 centimeters from her face,
And wanted to tell her everything,
Not just about these past 2 years but about...
everything
But all he could think was,
how much he still loved her,
After all this time,
And all he could say was,
"thanks for coming."
And she wanted to tell him she forgave him,
not just for these past 2 years, but for...
everything
But all she could think was,
how she wanted so badly to not let him leave again,
Not this time,
And all she could say was,
"your welcome."
He let her arms slip out of his and forced a smile,
This one she knew was fake,
And he told her he'd call her sometime,
they'd do lunch,
And she nodded and forced a smile too
And the knot in her throat was almost overbearing
Because she knew that this was goodbye,
And as he turned away from her,
Tears he had been holding in for 2 years,
Fell without restraint onto his face
And he knew it was goodbye
But neither of them could say it.
In her car she opened the envelope,
And inside was a single paper with a single sentence.
In his car he opened the box,
And what he saw made him smile,
A real smile.
She tucked the paper into her glovebox,
And drove off into the night.
He took the blue plastic ring that she had bought him once,
From a 25-cent machine at the mall,
That he thought he misplaced a billion years ago,
And put it in his pocket.
He drove off into the night.
She didn't look at that piece of paper again,
And she never saw him again,
And when she sold her car some years later,
The guy who bought it always wondered to himself,
What "1-4-3" scrawled on a paper in the glovebox meant.
[ 24 January 2003: Message edited by: E-girl ]
______________________________________________
She checked her watch and sighed.
He's not coming again.
She felt a heaviness in the pit of her stomach,
But couldn't pick herself up off that barstool.
She flagged the bartender and thought to herself,
He's pretty cute, if nothing else works out...
But even those thoughts were swallowed with her pride in a glass of rum and coke.
She traced a groove in the wood with her finger,
Not noticing she was crying until she saw a single tear
Fill up that gap in the wood
And there was no sense in sitting there anymore.
She got up, left a five under the glass,
And stepped out into the night.
It was a warm midsummer night,
But she shivered and wrapped her arms around herself,
And stared at the stars as she walked to her car.
Another night forgotten.
She was fumbling with her keys when he tapped at her window,
And through smeared glass there was that smile,
That damn smile,
That could always make her forget all the pain
And she rolled down her window without hesitation.
He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek,
And it was just like they had just left off yesterday,
But in reality, she hadn't seen that face in almost 2 years,
And it hadn't changed one bit.
He wasn't the type to bother with smalltalk.
He reached in as if to hug her,
But pulled her out through the window with ease.
There, standing before him in an empty parking lot
Under a perfect night sky
In some unfamiliar town
There was exactly 13 inches between them,
And she could smell Lifesavers on his breath,
And he noticed that she had cut her hair,
And he still wore the same cologne,
And she had somehow gotten more beautiful,
But he would never tell her that.
He tugged at her sleeve and she didn't question him.
They walked in silence to the end of the parking lot,
And there was a bench there, so they sat.
He looked at her and wanted to tell her about all these things
About his new girlfriend,
Well ok she's not new, he'd been fooling around with her
Before the two of them had even ended things,
And she wanted to tell him about her new house,
And about her new job that was finally going to get her out of this city,
But they just sat, drowning in each other's eyes,
Until she had to look away.
It was a long drive here.
She got lost 4 times and almost turned back,
But there was never any turning back when it came to him...
Except always.
He could always tell her what she wanted to hear
So when he told her that she looked great
She smiled smugly and told him that he looked great too
But what she really meant was,
You're still exactly what i fell in love with,
And i fucking hate it.
There was a groove in the wood of this bench too
And her fingers found it and began to nervously trace it,
Except that she wasn't nervous,
She was avoiding looking at him with all of her being,
And he, he was trying to figure out how to tell her he was getting married next month.
A strand of her hair fell across her forehead in such a way
That he had watched it do 2 million times over,
And she noticed that he was wearing 2 different socks and thought,
Thank God i dont have to pick those up anymore.
When he finally spoke it was about this and that
And she heard none of it.
She was intrigued by a fray in his shirt
And all she could think was,
She should have had a few more drinks before doing this.
He wanted to tell her that he was ok now,
And she wondered to herself "i wonder if he's ok?"
cuz she could never tell if that smile was real or fake,
real or fake just like his excuses,
So she decided that he was probably miserable,
And she had a brand new car where her and her boyfriend would drive and drive,
Listening to music he could never stand,
And he asked about her dog,
And she told him the dog was great,
But the dog was dead,
And it didn't matter anyway...
He was rambling now about people she didn't care about,
And she was concentrating hard on that groove in the wood.
He hated lying to her, but he felt this need to protect her from bad things,
And then they were sitting a little closer,
And he was looking at her as she talked,
Memorizing the color of her new eyeshadow and some new creases in her features,
That he wondered if they were from laughing or crying.
She looked over at him and felt uneasy at how he was staring at her,
But she let him because, he was never going to see her again.
He playfully grabbed her side and said "You've been working out, huh"
But she was actually pregnant,
And she hadn't been to a gym in months.
"Yeah" she lied.
There was no talk about what brought them here.
He had called her a week ago and told her to meet him here,
And she had said she'd see if she could find the time,
But really, she had to cancel appointments and put off important things to be here,
But that was nothing new.
He wasn't sure why he called her here either.
He obviously wasn't going to tell her about the engagement,
Or about anything for that matter,
But it was good to see her,
And it was good to see him,
And so they sat,
Under a perfect midsummer sky and lied to each other for a bit more,
And it was great. It was great.
Somehow his hand found hers
And that was ok.
Holding hands never hurt anybody.
He was trying to get the courage up to tell her that he was leaving for San Francisco
But it didn't matter anyway,
She had made up her mind not to see him again after tonight,
Even if he called again,
Which he wouldn't.
She was trying to think of a way to tell him that she hated him,
But it got lost in rememberance.
His wife-to-be was gorgeous
And she was no Cindy Crawford,
But there was something about her that was
familiar and pretty,
And sometimes pretty is better.
And she never really thought he was the most handsome guy,
But his features were familiar and nice,
And sometimes nice is better,
And she could trace them all day long,
Just like the groove in the bench.
When there was nothing else to say,
He took to leave,
And put in her hands an envelope.
She retrieved from her pocket a tiny box,
And gingerly handed it to him, emotionless.
They said a polite fairwell that didn't do this meeting justice
And each walked into a different direction into the perfect night.
She had promised herself not to look back,
And so had he,
But they both did,
And laughed a nervous laugh,
And she put out her arms to hug him,
Just in case she never felt that again,
Which she was sure she wouldn't,
And he let himself into her arms carefully,
Holding his breath and hoping it wouldn't feel...
like that.
She felt him sigh,
He felt a warm tear on the back of his neck.
He looked at her,
3 centimeters from her face,
And wanted to tell her everything,
Not just about these past 2 years but about...
everything
But all he could think was,
how much he still loved her,
After all this time,
And all he could say was,
"thanks for coming."
And she wanted to tell him she forgave him,
not just for these past 2 years, but for...
everything
But all she could think was,
how she wanted so badly to not let him leave again,
Not this time,
And all she could say was,
"your welcome."
He let her arms slip out of his and forced a smile,
This one she knew was fake,
And he told her he'd call her sometime,
they'd do lunch,
And she nodded and forced a smile too
And the knot in her throat was almost overbearing
Because she knew that this was goodbye,
And as he turned away from her,
Tears he had been holding in for 2 years,
Fell without restraint onto his face
And he knew it was goodbye
But neither of them could say it.
In her car she opened the envelope,
And inside was a single paper with a single sentence.
In his car he opened the box,
And what he saw made him smile,
A real smile.
She tucked the paper into her glovebox,
And drove off into the night.
He took the blue plastic ring that she had bought him once,
From a 25-cent machine at the mall,
That he thought he misplaced a billion years ago,
And put it in his pocket.
He drove off into the night.
She didn't look at that piece of paper again,
And she never saw him again,
And when she sold her car some years later,
The guy who bought it always wondered to himself,
What "1-4-3" scrawled on a paper in the glovebox meant.
[ 24 January 2003: Message edited by: E-girl ]
