Poem: "Things I Said At 1 a.m."

"Don't get any ideas,"

I whisper to him after a day of

running him in circles,

knowing full well I struggle to commit.

I don't deserve someone as good as this.

"I won't, promise," he swears.

-

"You do snore,"

I sneer after he shakes his bed

because he fell in his dreams again

after he failed to fall out of love

with someone who couldn't stand him.

"I hate you," he laughs.

-

"Come closer, and give my your hand,"

I say as we wait for another train

in a precarious winter blizzard.

My hands are like furnaces;

a home made just for you in this cold.

"Thank you," he shudders.

-

"Will I see you again?"

I ask him before asking myself

if I even wanted this to go further.

My feelings taking control

before I ever rationalize.

"Maybe," he says, then blocks me.

-

"Good riddance,"

I lie under my breath as my wingman leaves

before I'm pulled back in by someone

who wants a certain side of me

that I'm struggling to maintain.

"Now, where were we?" and he resumes.

-

"I have to get back home,"

I plead, to convince one friend that the best option, after losing

my glasses in the club

is to drive home drunk together

for my second pair of frames

"I'm so messed up," but they agree.