tonight the night is dark and cold,
even the stars have wrapped themselves up
in the cloak of clouds.
I went and knocked on your window
offering to come in and keep each other warm,
but when you kissed my lips
I realized you'd already found warmth in another substance,
so I left.
Now, here in my room,
eating chocolate and drinking peppermint tea,
I wish poetry could answer the question for me
why are all guys jerks?
But, writing does not answer longing,
only amplifies and allows outlets,
through which empathy can be acquired – if I'm lucky.
And if I was to label all guys jerks,
I spit in the faces of all the sweet nerds,
the gentle giant jocks,
who wouldn't harm a fly if it was caught,
the guy with the guitar
he'll have a girl to play for...
and there are so many more.
And if all guys are jerks, then what is a woman's worth?
Are we innocent angels eternally?
Do we treat men like we want to be treated?
Tonight I wish upon blanketed stars
not for answers I don't really want to know,
but the wisdom to embrace who we are,
and to know when it's gone too far.
That he's out there, somewhere.
though I know I'll never find him if I go looking.
I wish on stars I have to believe in,
because beneath the clouds, there's no telling
if there even are any at all.