Second Story

here's my first poem on the site. I wrote it in 2003 and I could try to morph it into a song, but i like it the way it is. rambling prose.

Second Story

I can barely differentiate
the faraway rhythmic percussion and wooing
coming from the club outside the plain drawn curtains
two flights up
from the muted reminder of my alienation
taunting from inside.
I try my best to appear aloof
but the game is always on -
I keep you in my peripheral
just in case... what?
you do something to warrant a more direct gaze?
you might possibly meet my stare?
I would have kept you in my line of sight
because of attraction,
curiosity
if you hadn't superseded my lust with hope
with that smile that is worth it when it shows itself
and your brief five fingers pressed on the edge of my shoulder
your asking someone to take a picture of us
you asking, not me making the first move
you inviting me to stay in your room after hours
not requesting I leave, almost imploring I stay
what a wonderful first day to end it by sleeping beside you.
Your wonderfullness gave me the incentive to want more
from the type of person I never expect anything at all

maybe you were my pillow that night
and i got carried away past my possibilities
because since then you became the guy I assumed you were
too attractive for me,
aloof
and cool.
All i always wanted to be,
never quite pulled off.
you were willing to stroke my back that night
but you never inched closer to me on the dancefloor
that spot on my shoulder turned cold
dissapeared from negligence.

i realize in two weeks you won't matter
but living in the moment has its disadvantages.
You consume me - where I look, what I hear
struggling desperately to hear your wild screaming
voice from downstairs, pick you apart from the
crowd from the second story
you danced past me
and my cynicism overrules the idea that you are
avoiding me because of my obvious infatuation
my head no more than 45 degrees turned from you at every moment
no, it's much worse
you don't even notice my dissapointment as your saunter past me
to cling to another girl who fits
nicely in her clothing
you don't even think to think about where I am
that I'm back here, curtains drawn, on the
second story
moved enough by your presence these past few days
to contemplate my own in general.