One
By Gia, age 17, Florida
Fighting the urge,
The angst eats away at me every time I see your name in my phonebook.
Wanting to touch you again,
Not allowed to because you aren't that anymore.
Desperately I try to find your face in a crowd even though my heart knows you aren't there.
I smoke a cigarette to get the edge off,
By the end of the night there won't be any left.
You'll be tucked into your bed with dreams dancing around,
While I, well, I try to make some lies about why I smell like men and smoke.
Come back, silly boy, I won't screw up this time.
I want it to be you at the end of day,
Not some boy with a car and a nice room who wants to pay attention to me.
I'm not a sl**; I am just craving the attention I want from you.
The nicotine is wearing off, but it doesn't matter,
All I really want is to hear your voice.
Come back, silly boy, I won't screw up this time.
We'll get drunk on poetry I write and the stories you tell,
I'll play you music and you'll drift off to sleep.
Never about you honey,
I always put me first.
Sneak out while your chest rises and falls.
Cigarette burns don't hurt as much
As the pain of not telling someone
That you desperately want to change
Their outlook on you.
Sleep and dream about better tomorrows,
When I'll be gone and you'll be here,
Making the world smile.
