eighteen year old mind

She looks at me as if i am supposed to love her,
with those big black thistle eyes,
maybe i do,
but maybe i just want a blow,
which isnt all that bad is now it?

I still havnt fucked her,
after three years of just holding hands,
and telling each other we will stay together,
in the yawning mornings,
and weeping into our shoulders,
crying out for man's salvation
crying out for tomorrow,
crying out for her nineteenth birthday and the partition of a year between us,
and writing love poems on the backs of one anothers hands,
before bursting into tears and washing them away with vodka,
maybe she thinks i am gay,
just because i refuse sex,
maybe i think im some celebrate wild wise jungle man,
maybe im just a pussy,

She is hot,
and i want to bone her,
but i still want to be her charming hero,
I still havnt let go of childhood dreams,
and the word 'heart' still strangles me,
are you here beside me?
if i close my eyes can i pretend i am holding you?
I am shattering,

by Robbie Fitzgibbon