Better

One hundred letters I have written
over five hundred pages left to burn,
screaming over and over
all I want is you!
But all I had was a box of crayons,
and to my disappointment
every single one broke in my hands.
So I decided to call you on the phone
but it took two packs of smokes
and a bottle of tequila
just to begin to dial your number.
After I took a quick breather,
I invited you over,
but I messed up
and ate some funky waivers.
I wish I could remember
how it was it all started
but either way,
I managed to get you in my bed.
After an hour of giving you head
I could no longer pretend to be sober
I had to retire.
And while I slept,
all I dreamt was you
and all we could hypothetically endeavor.
But you left before I could wake
and now I'm far too embarassed
to speak of the ways
my heart beats.
So I decided to try again
but your hands were holding anothers
and I gave way
to cheap wine and cold showers.
Call me pathetic, call me a fool,
I'd love to not love you.
Now I have an option and no other
I will forget you
and just pretend to be better.