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Bookers Bake Poem
Maybe one day, I’ll get over you.
I’ll be able to walk through the crowded streets-
And pass you by without a single thought about you in my mind…
Maybe… one day … this will all make sense.
The way you conveniently avoid me in the dam school hallways.
While also conveniently taking the time to spam my inbox with useless messages we both know you are well above.
(I wait for them everyday.)
Then… silence
Nothing for a day, a week, then a month.
Your birthday comes.
Of course I greet you, I’m not terrible. But wow…
Are you angry at me???
(Message Received!)
(Heart React)(Laughing Emoji)
(Is there hope??)
Maybe one day the gap between us will close.
This seeming air choking me alive will finally stop.
I’ll open my mouth then everything right comes out.
No regrets.
Maybe, just maybe, things will go back to normal.
The endless intellectually stimulating conversations about anything under the sun.
The stupid jokes just naturally coming out.
That level of understanding.
Or maybe, things could be more.
Though it’s absolutely so stupid to think about.
It doesn’t make sense.
It feels so wrong.
Yet simultaneously so right.
I won’t deny it though.
I’ve thought about it.
A lot.
(My 3AM Spotify Playlist has seen it all.)
(A tear falls down my cheek).
Oh my gosh, I’m going insane.
Please help.
But maybe, most likely, this really will be a thing of the past.
Something that I will laugh about in an insane and crazy way.
I’ll show up to that ten year reunion, and maybe you will too (probably not).
We won’t ghost each other by then.
Perhaps a small polite wave then we continue on with our lives.
Maybe, by then, you’ll be with someone else.
I mean, you probably will; you seem like the practical type.
And by then, I probably will too.
But the memories will haunt me.
Maybe.
I’ll be stuck walking around THAT oval in one direction.
While you walk around in the opposite direction.
Calculating exactly when our paths will cross again.
(It doesn’t make any sense).
Because time and time again,
I don’t want this to be a thing of the past.
I don’t think I would be able to stand it.
Please.
But then again, maybe it will.
So at the end of today, tomorrow, and (maybe) forever, I’ll have to think about that “Maybe, one day…”
I guess.
Copyright © Bookers Bake | Year Posted 2025
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Details |
Bookers Bake Poem
I wrote about you before.
You and your maybes.
Everything about you making me so dam unsure of myself.
Yet also so sure?
I was delusional.
Idealistic.
Overtly hopeful.
I thought those inboxes meant something more.
I thought that for some stupid reason I was special?
But then I turn around.
And you’ve ran to someone else.
What a coward.
I’m sorry, it’s the truth.
You are nothing but a coward.
But… who cares?
I certainly don’t.
You can go about doing whatever.
I think everything I thought of came through.
And man, I can’t wait for that 10 year reunion.
Not because I want to see YOU.
But because I want to SEE you.
Because you may go around and round all of us.
But one thing remains clear.
Nothing will come of it.
Because of what you are.
And because of everything that can be.
Good luck!
As for me, I am enlightened.
Copyright © Bookers Bake | Year Posted 2026
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