Mr. Alright

I spent my whole life looking two steps ahead

in hopes that I might meet you sooner

Mr. Alright

The one to make me feel alright

As if you were just beyond the next horizon

Waiting around every turn

I spent too long listening to Connie Francis

Too long searching for where the boys are

And perhaps my church steeple has past

Perhaps love was one of the detours I never took

Or a detour I took only for a night

Or perhaps love is just a song

A lyric or stanza in an incoherent poem

A poem I ruined when I spilled the ink

Or maybe it was an improvement

 

The truth is I don’t know much about love

Just how it makes you bleed

The boy who cried wolf

Running to town after every date

After every kiss

Hoping that maybe, just maybe

This one will stay

That maybe this really is love

But would I even know it if it was?

 

Just another illusion or delusion

To make my feet think they cannot touch the ground

To think of you with certain scents or even sounds

And maybe it’s all too much

Maybe it’s a sensory overload

And I’m just not meant for love

But I’m not alright

Not yet

And I suppose the truth is

That I want to be.

I want so badly to be my own alright

Before I find anyone else’s

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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