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Love Poem: Everyday
Chris Boskovski Avatar
Written by: Chris Boskovski

Everyday

I see them, everyday,
the hipsters and the fags
in their fancy jackets,
flipping their feminine hands,
nails just cut and short.

I hear them, everyday,
the young girls getting raped 
in the night,
and you cover your ears, 'cause it's none
of your business and you've got work in the morning.

I taste their flesh,
that lay in my bed everyday and night.
I taste their flesh,
those girls under the bed sheets,
shy girls, tired girls.

I can hear the sadness in their voices,
when they see me start for the doors
and my car, in empty bedrooms
and parking lots,
I can hear the tears come
when they tell me not to go.
Everyday, and it hurts.
When I break their hearts with lies,
everyday I feel bad,
when they call me names,
and call me a piece of shit
and an asshole 
and a sick liar,
my ego tells them to keep on going,
my heart slowly dies.

I see them,
those Arab girls
in pink and black head scarfs,
on Ramadan,
Praying to Allah-
and praying that one boy they loved in their past,
comes back to smile with them one more time.

I look in the mirror,
I shave my beard,
smoke a cigarette,
and close my eyes;
thinking about those olive-skinned Arab girls
walking to their BMWs and Mercedes Benz,
but I see that one who calls me a piece of shit,
not because she is mad at me,
but because she loves me.
And that other one,
with the long black hair
and fancy pants,
cries for me,
not because she hates me,
but because she cares.

Everyday, I make the mistake,
of love and death and life
and misreading the fine print,
I go up on stage and act as if I were a fool,
then I wipe of my makeup and kiss them
goodbye.
Never to see their hair,
or reach into their hearts,
to truly pull out emotions
and kiss them goodnight.
I cant,
because I am a coward.
A poet,
with a depression problem,
a liar,
a cheater,
a victim of nothing and everything.

So here I am, don't waste a wink of sleep over me,
I'm not worth it,
no matter what you say,
I can't deal with anything,
I can't see truth because I am blind.
I write and talk in metaphors,
"Just keep smiling," I say.
But they go on their way, live their lives,
and I sit, watch them smile,
watch them go places and smile with loved-ones
and I sit,
alone,
smiling
and happy,
because those things make me happy, everyday.
Everyday I see it,
I hear it,
I taste it,
I love it and hate it.

My heart hurts,
hurts and the pain can never stop for a second of relief.

I don't know anymore,
My friends... I just don't know anymore...