Could

I could say I'm lost
and write my way
as if I knew where I was going.
I could write a song
about how I feel
as if I'd feel any different.
I could sit here and mope,
and bitch and groan
about how much
I miss you
and wish you were
here.
I could go out to bars
find someone else
and regret things
in the morning.
I could sit for hours
talking with friends
contemplating what
life is.
I could think about
every step we took
to wind up where we are
now.
I could tell you
that you're a fool
and list every detail
I secretly didn't like
about you.
I could passive aggressively
and nervously
show up to where you might be
looking dressed to impressed-
as the saying goes-
hoping to make you jealous.
I could message you
and seem crazier
than I really am-
and push you
so far away from me.
I could lay in my bed
cuddling with a pillow
wishing it was you.
I could lose my faith
in everything
and pretend this world
was a joke we create
in our heads.
I could ask the universe
to show itself
to let me know
what to do.
I could flip a quarter
and ask what my future is,
even though I'm sure
it wouldn't be right.
I could fall asleep
and dream about
the times when I was
happier.
I could tell people
that we meant
more to me than
they understand.
I could keep my
online postings
to songs that
provoke a vengeful attitude.
I could
try to forget,
knowing I won't want to.
I could give girls my number
and tell them to call me
despite never getting a call.
I could hang out
with friends
doing things they enjoy
that I find boring
just to not feel alone.

I could do a lot of things.
But all I want to do
is fix everything.
Even though
I know I can't,
because it
just pushes you
farther away.

I could write
a poem at
5 in the morning
in hopes you'd read it
and want to talk to me
still.
I could try
to do anything to fix
these things.
The least I can do is try.