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I am not a poet but let these crisp

chapped lips teach you how to speak

How to say the things you’ll never say to me

How to say the things I hope you feel

How to tell which words are fake

While I desperately hope they’re real

As I said I am not a poet but I can yearn

I felt you drag your hand across her waist

I bet you cupped her perfect ass

I bet you took her home and said everything

everything I wish you’d tell me

I was eight drinks deep but I still was ashamed

My fat freckled frame sat and stared

could you feel it?

Neither could I

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