I got myself a glass of wine,
then went upstairs and found a chair;
searching to see that bane of mine,
wond'ring if he'll even be there.

Holding glasses, standing around,
talking, laughing, being party.
The wine I drank has killed the sound;
I don’t mind: it looks… well, arty.

He’s come, but with somebody new:
His old honey broke up with him.
So now what the hell do I do?
My chances are looking quite slim.

I’d thought that he wasn’t with me
Just because he loved his old girl –
That’s not true. (Why didn’t I see??!)
This really makes me want to hurl.

It’s his nature to be a flirt,
but his new babe, she doesn’t care
or she doesn’t think she’ll get hurt.
(It’s too much to hope, or to dare!)

She’s hung a sign on him: Don’t Touch
and stupidly left the full room.
It seems I always drink too much
and charge headlong towards my doom –

Trying to appear nonchalant
I approach him, clutching my glass,
pretending it’s not him I want.
(Drunken wenches just don’t have class!)

I’m trying to make an attempt
To give him my … heart, you could say.
But he doesn’t grasp my intent:
Time spreads its wings and flies away…

***

The room is reeling and hazy:
he says he loves me … as a friend.
If I believe THAT I’m crazy.
Bastard led me on ‘til the end.

And the things he says are all lies.
Well, it seems my bubble is burst –
This is where my love for him dies.
Hell, some party, this twenty-first!!

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Author guidance for This poem

One of my earliest works - circa 1993

updated Jan 16 by coleman