Home > prose and poetry > a poem for a girl whose name i never got

a poem for a girl whose name i never got

we stumbled out the pub
stinking drunk and broke as fuck
just another drunken night
out on the town

in the dim light
away from the unceasing sound of talk
i asked you
“hey girl can you walk?”
you looked at me and nodded
took my hand in yours
and together we stumbled down the block

right when you tripped and fell
i was talking to myself
thinking
“oh god she looks so swell”
and i reached out to catch you
but i missed

you hit the concrete
like a sack of wet potatoes
we broke into drunken laughter
at exactly the same time

a passing car
drove through a puddle
by the side of the road
and soaked you to the bone

soaking wet
you asked me if i could
escort you back home
because at night
it’s dangerous to be a girl
especially when you’re drunk and out alone

so i
helped you up
took yr hand in mine
and then we started walking

the night air was cold
doubly so for you
and when i saw the look on your face
i wished that i’d brought along my jacket
just so that i could’ve given it to you for you to wear

and to cut a long story short
we soon arrived at yr place
and as you fumbled in your bag
looking for your keys
i stood and watched
hoping to god that maybe
just maybe
i’d get lucky
this time

i helped you up the steps
that led to yr door
and you unlocked the grille
and then the door
and then you opened it
bathing the both of us in an
artificial fluorescent whiteness

you smiled and said thanks
took off your shoes
and hung them up on the coat-rack to let them dry

when you stepped inside
and turned to look at me
perhaps to say goodbye
it couldn’t have been more than five seconds
but it felt like an eternity

and i wanted to take a step forward
and i wanted to join you
i’d wanted so many things
but none like i wanted you
and then when i’d made up my mind
and i was just about to take that step
you shut the door and locked it

This is just me going all Owen Ashworth-meets-Nazim Hikmet-meets-really bad poet on your collective arses. It’s for my Creative Writing 2 ‘zine, but well, I felt like posting something and I didn’t want to post something that’s going to go in my “book.” At least not yet. Tell me, oh dear ever-silent readers, is this one any good? I don’t fancy myself as a poet if I may be honest, but it’s somewhat fun, y’know, writing poetry. Especially crap poetry.

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Categories: prose and poetry
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