Taking pictures, before and after
Of me and you at our happiest
And me and you at our eventual state
The dark circles underneath our eyes
You, telling me not enough makeup in the world could hide my pits and falls
Me, curling up like a little child with my hands wrapped around my shins and my romantic pink maxi dress hanging wayside like I wore it on the wrong night
The wrong boy
The wrong time
Writing poetry at the bar setting
Swiveling in my chair anxiously
I don’t even know what a daiquiri is or what it is supposed to be
But I wonder how many it will take for me to convince myself that you’re not mean – you’re just a bad boy
And I’m a girl that likes bad boys
Always drawn to the drama and bruises
Waiting to see if you’re composed of that
But your conversation is flat
And I’m sitting and wishing I had said yes to the good guy
The right boy
The right time
Can’t always predict that right
Can’t always promise a good night
One day things will be alright
I can no longer take these risks
