Enough

You're attractive enough. 

You'll be okay. 

Levels of transparency 

I fall through without 

reckoning. 

80s love songs spin 

hopelessly on my Sony. 

Catacombs dripping from 

the loveless night before. 

I pretended it meant more

to preside over him and feel 

CrazySexyCool. 

I remove his recommendations 

from our little, convenient

music box which requires 

no precise dusting. 

I can't part with the albums. 

They're just too good. 

And his stupid ass didn't 

manufacture them himself. 

But the one hit transfers? 

I remove with the utmost faux

dignity and fleeting self worth. 

He's washed me off within a few hours

afterwards. 

I am always much far behind

the one I like the most. 

A shower sounds wonderful, though. 

I finally get to be the boy again

in the Third Eye Blind Song.