THE GOOD LIFE

Words lost in the wind

I write poems for the girls I want. But realize they are meant for the girl I need. See I proceed to fall head over heels for that girl that I saw that one time and laughed at that one joke. Shit you know the joke that I can’t seem to remember. But I have already imagined telling my kids the story of Howe me and their mother met even tho I don’t even know her name. But see I can’t help I’m a hopeless romantic looking for that movie moment of when our eyes meet and she smiles and our future is unraveled i’n that one second. But I miss that moment because I’m stuck wanting to have the moment with the girl I want. And don’t realize that she’s not the girl I need. And this ain’t no love poem I’m not here to confess. I’m just here to explain the endless torture cycle that is my love life. And no I’m not looking for help with the ladies cuz i don’t think I’m that bad looking and I’m pretty charming If I do say so myself. It’s to remind those who are stuck like me that maybe we aren’t looking i’n the right direction. That the girl we have already wrote the last 3 poems about is not looking for our affection. That only cuz she has those pretty eyes don’t mean they are meant for our reflection. I have spent sleepless nights wondering about wether if she thinks about me the same way I do. Or if she saw that cute text I sent her earlier that day. And failed to realize that I ignore the text from the person who asked me how my day was going. The one person that was there to help me up when I was falling. Who would pick up the phone if I ever called. Who knew my birthday without me having to bring it up. See we all have a dream girl who we want and be happy with. But happiness i’n not getting what you want. But appreciating what you have. So no this ain’t no love poem. Because I’m not i’n love. I probably missed my chance at love cuz I was lost In the nice eyes of some girl who doesn’t even know my name. While you were telling me that your favorite color was green just like me. Or maybe I was daydreaming about some no name girl and didn’t hear you say that you also enjoy watching the Knicks. See this is poem for everyone that is blinded by the pretty eyes or the nice smile. Beauty is Not really i’n the eye in the beholder. But i’n the words that you hear. Because even though I might have never looked at you. I did hear you speak.

-Andy P.