Pretending to be Bukowski: A Poem Collection

Promise Me Maybe Someday

Author's Note: Dedicated to E.

You and I have always been a mess,
A fuse frayed at the ends but still burning,
But I think there is beauty in imperfections
And that that this uniqueness is something many can't find.

No matter how messy we've been before,
Things are different now, and easier.
Free speech and understanding is a constant we haven't had before
And that's how it should always be.

And there's really no telling what we are,
But I don't think you really need a word for everything.
We may act a certain way to a bystander.
Maybe one moment we're a "thing" but in another we're not.

I don't think it really matters much, though, whatever it is.
There's always room to speculate in almost anything.
And I don't know what the present or the future holds, but,
I have never been more content in the midst of the unknown.

Regardless, I don't know much, but there things I am sure of.
I like your smile and all of your stupid jokes, and the list goes on.
And I may roll my eyes and call you a nerd,
But I think you know that that's my highest form of affection.

And come what may, no matter the direction life takes,
I know that you are a welcome constant throughout,
And maybe down the line, we'll keep our promise,
Even if it's just a maybe one for now.