That Street

Alot of things happened on that street. I drove by it the other day, because I was missing you. The first time we kissed was on that street. I was drunk and had my whole life in front of me. You--were right in front of me.

"I think I'm lonely."
"You don't have to be."
"Sometimes I think I do. No one understands me. No one wants to try hard enough."
"I could try."
"I'm fucked up."
"So am I."
"I have issues."
"So do I."


We had our first fight on that street. I was so insecure and you took it so personal. I remember stumbling on the street in my underwear, tears streaming down my face, looking for your car. You had already left and I felt like I was dying inside. What if you never came back? What if I had fucked up everything? I tend to do that. I tend to self destruct. I drove around all night looking for you. I found you at four in the morning asleep on someone's floor.

"Hey."
"Hey."
"Fuck...I'm sorry. Please come back."
"Are you sure you want that?"
"I'm sure I want you."
"I can't believe you found me."
"I think the same thing all the time."