Damsel Like Me

Will you keep me company tonight 

or are you working at the bar 

up on the north side? 

I read the book that you gave me to borrow, 

absorbing its final words, 

trying my best not to write our own ending too. 

Catastrophic destination

after you realize you don’t want to continue

with a damsel like me, 

my mind afloat and delicate, 

just like your soft voice in a dark room. 

Could you pour me a drink? 

One strong enough so I can forget

the way it felt when you said

I am too pure for the world. 

Too clean, too innocent

for a person like you, 

is that what you meant?

Little white lies and your corduroy pants on the floor, 

or did I paint over them far too quickly? 

Living for the gut feeling that you’ll call soon. 

This cycling is unhealthy, 

but who am I

to change my bad habits

when the knights 

in their fake, shining armor, 

can’t get off their high horses

to ask if they can save me. 

Could you pour me a drink?

A double. 

So I don’t think about your lips. 

So I don’t keep on hoping that you’ll save me.