Funny I graduated- not a poem more of a short story...

Tis is long one so get ready to read guys:

She was always alone, wrong men, the wrong times, who really knew the reason why. She slept alone liking the feeling of an empty bed , enjoying the melancholy solitude accepting this then.

She just wanted to be by herself- to dream her empty dreams- the one's that will never be. Somehow the days of loud neon partying, drinking tawny fire out of skinny shot glasses had floated by. It seemed she had gone from 16 to 30 in a couple of months.

Once she watched boys and snogged them at shiny busy bars, shaking martini glasses at life, fighting reality with every tequila. Sometimes a bathroom outing would reveal a vice too good to pass by, cut into neat little lines; there was always enough and never. Companionships of pretense, of liquor lust and cocaine company, she gave it up.

Just in time to get sick then sicker, she never knew him and, she never asked to meet him, why would she, how could she? When she did see him it was like a Polaroid; a flash, then white, then slowly the man/boy appeared.

The walking talking joke, her life, she had somehow cleaned up to become a cliché. She had gone from junkie to willing bride? (Well almost) What? She made herself sick and he made her giddy. Oh- he did- him and his exotic accent, his text book qualities that any Jewish mother could tick off in her checkbook for "Suitable Husbands for my Daughter". "you know you could do worse". Worse indeed, implicating she had and will.

Once she would have been horrified by this man/boy, he was so… conventional, yet so exotic, oh god she was feeling nauseas again. Why did she grow up? It really irritated her that she was proving people right and thinking responsibly now that she had reached a certain age, yet it was impossible to go back; a labyrinth of confusion and bad decision.

Ah limbo, the man/boy went back to his own country. She thinks she might secretly hate him. Actually she detests the sentiments and questions that came with him. It wasn't love or at least not that daft puppy dog teenage thing (but she had graduated after all) it was this sort of intense comfort (when he left it had the effect on her as it would on three year old who's dummy was taken away or lost) , he was here four days yet she knew him well enough it seemed. She would hate to admit it but would have to -if she was honest- that she couldn't think of anything nicer or more agreeable. The man/boy's family were so nice, he was too (she blushes at the thought) and all the financial security (of the upper middle class) in the world.

She looked out her window and wished she had never met him, she watched the stars in the charcoal sky and a plane flash and purr it's way on. Clandestinely she wished she was on the plane going there to see him and maybe she would never come back, maybe she could leave her clichés and solitude behind forever. She needed to pick the genre here, was it a tragic comedy, a drama, a romantic comedy, a romance or some little slice of life art house film, she let her hopes travel on the plane into the night and decided on an adventure romance; it would be something new for her. With that decision she slid into a dreamy sleep filled with foreign big cities and always by her side the man/boy, she needed to wake up and get to work on the reality but at least her dreams had shared her possible future.