I kissed you in the hallway,
It was safe. No one to bear witness to the sin.
I know you’d love to kiss me in the street
But you always got something else to do…
You have to take a shower because you swear they’ll smell it on you
The lies, the secrets, the closed doors.
But out in the open we’re just comfortable strangers,
Who happen to fuck every Thursday morning.
A glance in the wrong direction could tip someone off.
Play the part, say goodbye, say that you’re tired.
And then come crawling back to my side.
I called your name in the street, and you just passed by.
Your eyes couldn’t even meet mine in the coffee shop…
God you live this life on a different plane than mine,
And I realize now that we will never intercept
Except for behind closed doors, acting out some sort of soft-core porn scene.
I can pretend all I want, but our lives will never meet.
It doesn’t matter that I’ll never meet them…
Your friends are fucked up anyway.
I hope she smells me on your sheets.
Holly Phillips
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/song-to-myself-at-24/
