Wasted

Well, DJB, I know you’re trying,
and that’s a lot—
even enough, sometimes.

But God, I wish it weren’t raining.
Or I wish I had waited ten more minutes,
‘cause I don’t have business to take care of.

I have a last ditch effort
to get a grip on myself
before I leave this town.

That effort is dampened,
and my courage washed away,
in one short moment.

I feel too damn silly
to admit I’m looking for you,
just hoping for a band-aid.

Too convenient would it be
for you to know that I’m only here,
to search for a shot of optimism.

A temporary high is better than none,
and I just want one more hit from you,
so I won’t find a new low on an old high.

But no, I’ll let the Syracuse rain
stop me from trying, even though
I’ve got you right here with me now.

I’ll waste this opportunity
on the unfading conviction
that I don’t deserve it.
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