Regular Poem: I might tell you

16 Mar

I might tell you
many things about
many things
if I were talking to you.

I might tell you
about that woman at church who
wears gigantic t-shirts but couldn’t, apparently, find
a green gigantic t-shirt
in her doubtless gigantic collection
of gigantic t-shirts
to wear to the parade.

I might tell you
about playing Balderdash and
winning–
about using an answer you once used.
When the movie title was read, and
the players had to make up the plot of the movie,
I knew I recognized the title, but I couldn’t remember the real plot.
I could, however,
remember the plot you made up, and
it makes me giggle even now,
even against my will.

I might tell you
how often I’ve mentioned you in conversations this past week–
unwittingly–
mentioned the old times and nonsense.
I wanted
to stop my mouth every time, but
your name was always already out of it,
and I couldn’t retract it, or
I’d look foolish and stuttering and totally wrong.

I might tell you
if my throat didn’t constrict,
and my eyes didn’t tear,
and my leg didn’t twitch,
and my heart didn’t ache.

I might tell you.

If I were talking to you.

I might tell you.

If I were talking
and not foolish and stuttering and totally wrong.

I might tell you.

But we’re not talking.
And it’s probably best because
I might tell you
we’re both jerks
but you’re more of one than
I am.

And that’s probably true.
Although that’s quite a feat.
Because I’m quite a jerk.

I might tell you
I love you
the same whether we talk or don’t, but
I hate you
more when we do.

And that’s why we can’t talk.
I might tell you.

And then you might tell me, too.

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4 Responses to “Regular Poem: I might tell you”

  1. silverscreenings 17 March 2013 at 10:08 AM #

    I love this! It makes my heart ache a little.

    • TheBestofAlexandra 17 March 2013 at 2:46 PM #

      Thanks, blog BFF. I guess it’s a successful heart-ache poem, then. 🙂 Fortunately or unfortunately? IDK about that…

  2. thelastthingido1 25 February 2015 at 10:07 AM #

    Ugh, this is so wonderful and painful, and just utterly perfect.

    • TheBestofAlexandra 25 February 2015 at 3:10 PM #

      Writing can be so cathartic sometimes, but sometimes it’s just an exercise in masochism. I look back in this poem–the relationship it described is fixed–and I’m so glad I don’t feel that way anymore. If I’m in the wrong mood, though, I can feel it all again, and I’m like “why did I even do this?” Haha life is long and terrible and short and delightful, you know?

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