Why I Asked You Out
I asked you out not because I want you to know me
I’m not even sure I want to know you
I asked you out so I have something to write my poetry about.
You are so beautiful, so young and wild and bright
And you shine like the Texas sun in July
And it burns
But I stare anyway
Knowing there are things I’ll never understand, and you are one of them.
I asked you out not because you’re beautiful
But because you’re battered and bruised, inked and marked
You’ve been trifled with, you’ve fought more than a few battles
I don’t know how many you won
I’m not sure I want to.
I asked you out because you winked at me
And said I didn’t take enough chances
And that one day the world would pass me by
All because I was too comfortable in it’s shadows
After that I wrote line after line of poetry
And scratched it all out until it tore the paper
I asked you out because I had hoped you’d clear the ink stains from my desk
But when it came down to it, you only added more
I didn’t know what I started
I only wanted to write poetry, I never wanted you in your entirety
We both knew the contrast, how you were the light and I was your shadow
And when you burned even brighter, I had no choice but to disappear.
The truth is, I’ll never be the same after that
I stared at the sun until it burnt itself into my eyes
And it is so fitting that you’re the only thing I see now
I asked you out because I cannot conquer the sun
But I was willing to set myself on fire
Just to give it a chance