deepundergroundpoetry.com

Unrequited

The party perfect are fashion late,
I shudder with a whiskey swig
and watch her through my parted fringe
If I'm drunk, I'm drunk already
no more of this, trying to be friends.

She's rolled her eyes to someone else,
swigs a gin and laughs with his friends,
"oh your so funny",
If she's drunk, she's drunk already,
stands unsteady but lands quite certain.

Around him she struts and pouts
no one has any doubt.
A single glance back, that pity half smile
that keeps me sat with my drink for a while.

You're drunk she said, still linked to his ego.
"Get lost" I said, either he goes or I go,
"who the hell are you"? she asked.
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