like some kind of ghost

you said
though i know it wasnt for me
years before we'd ever meet
i'll die before i find some meaning
i'll die before i can really breathe

but something spoke
to two thousand and nine
four years before
just finding the rhymes
i was thirteen before
just meeting him
six years older
now eight
but not that i think you know the weight

i read your poetry
trying to find what they really mean
if it had happened
wondering if they changed who you had been
eyes not yet met mine
but writing about a sad girl
drunk like the mixed drinks
you made to find me
lonely in a bed
you left me coldly
despite my knowing the possibility

you said the moon was hard to find
crescent reflections placed on the back of my mind
wanted to tell you stories
but yet couldn't get you alone long enough
without the music turned up
too loud to hear myself think
and just enough to cover the hitch of my breathing
you told me to shut up

you were right
the paths that we choose lead us astray
and i made damn sure you'd like me that way
moved forward with my body
because i hate the depth which comes along with talking
the possibility of you knowing anything
of what is damaging to my self-esteem

two hours wasn't enough sleep
and the way the curtains pulled open
shone light through
i felt used by you
especially after
when i left but nothing was said

i know im trying harder
hours between where i faultered
but you saying anything
will lead any girl to believe
maybe its different
not really just the day after
he told me to wait a week after
to say things which could possibly shatter
but im going home soon
not soon enough
but enough to hate who i made myself out to be
young and stupid enough for your using