"

I am a relational botch job and horror trophy.
I wanted this one to go right
I don’t want a relationship that simply comes together out of crisis.

Why do I care for you so much?

How bout You made me laugh like a maniac and cry like a bum.
You looked into this tinfoil chest.
I was cooking old vegetables.
I am being ripped by these looped sentences.

How could you sleep with someone you hated?

You are dating a fella whose head spins in a zillion directions.

Maybe I want to lock fingers and shut up.

I wanted into your skull to undo some sentences.

How can I measure up to the rich older fellas,
The hip art sensibilities,
when a bit of flatulation in January made me laugh through all 1998?

I goof off. I am poor. I live on a little ship.
My job isn’t stable.
I have no mystery or rebellious grit.
I like dumb magic tricks and being tackled.

When you told me about losing your virginity
do you know I wanted to be there
to shake you and say ‘Wait dammit
wait for me.’

I think of how I’d feel without you
and I am ripped into freeway trash.
I fell for you twice.
You’re a big fat fuckin’ wow,
so where do I belong?

You used to kiss me mean and good.
You don’t anymore.
I don’t know what you know about me.
I don’t know what you wanna know.

I am the kinda guy who will call too much,
make mistakes on the suave scale,
say the wrong things to your friends,
play American music,
kiss you like hell.

I wanna fix what the other upstanding Christian boys wrecked.
I wanna punch out all the smart, clever
and coy billboards you dated before
and stalk all the boys with secret crushes
and place their hearts on Pungee stakes and say Suck it
she’s mine.

One survivor.

I needed to flush it all out on paper.
Karate chop!
This isn’t an encoded message.
This is me being as honest as I can.
You may have learned nothing from these ramblings
and Jesus… wait
I don’t even know if I’ll ever
show this to you.

" 

Derrick Brown, Unsent

It’s probably O.K. to tell this story since I don’t know where this woman is anymore. It’s a bit too self-aware and revealing for me to love this poem. The short of it is I cared for this female. I had a crush on her for years. She finally started to date me. Months later she told me she was pregnant. I wept while ‘Shot in the Arm’ by Wilco played. We had never had sex. She had twins. I wrote her this poem when I was trying to win her from the demon she got pregnant by.

(Source: whale-bone)