No, fuck you Damien Rice

Dazed and confused, I awaken
To find you left the door ajar
A not so subtle exit yet
Maybe that was your intent
Weavers of lackluster adventures
We passed through life in pinks and blues
You told me I was strange and unusual
I exclaimed you were arrogant and mislead
Though in the light your face shone with brilliance
I swore I fell in love with you right then
Your arms were my home away from home
Drive me to the desert now stranger
It is time we went our separate ways
My scarf I left in the back of your car
As a reminder I'd always be near

I unearthed this poem second semester when I was going through documents to delete on my mom's computer. I wrote it last summer before going to Goucher. It was a mark of a new beginning, a fresh start full of fresh faces. No longer would I pine over those who weren't worth my time and affection. There are several versions of this poem. The version I read at an open mic at a local coffee shop that the subject of the poem happened to be at was the angrier one. I don't think we spoke for the rest of the day. He and I are still friends though. We still talk about Final Fantasy and our love for Yoni Wolf (new topics of conversation that began this year now include drugs, drink recipes, and a mutual interest in an anti-war folk band called The Ascetic Junkies).

I'm now currently doing research on the history of Free People so I appeal more to my interviewer on Monday. Damien Rice's "Volcano" is playing. Being as good as he is should be a sin.