Rewrite

I always want to write it again

Rewrite it, rewrite it, write it again

Because all the other stuff will be erased

It never really mattered to me anyway

I want to write about her, I asked her out for coffee

I love coffee, also tea

Something hot and sticky

Warm, not cold

Heated, but not bold

Drinks of whiskey, rum, scotch, and mixed drinks

I wanted her to be there when I sleep

To speak freely, like I thought I could

To struggle and slide through the bad

To find out what is good

Find comfort through sadness, and all of my madness

I like you

Even if you don’t like me

I’ll write that poem

That kind of story