“Things I Regret” Poem

A poem I wrote for class a few semesters ago.  I figure this may be the closest it could be to being published.  They’re all still true, although I could definitely add more.

 

Things I Regret

 

Getting bangs.

 

Telling

my brother I do not love

him, even if

he really doesn’t love

anyone other than

himself.

 

Attempting to play any sport whatsoever.

 

Shots of tequila.

Throwing up in:

the trash can,

a fraternity sink, and

my toilet for 6 hours.

Shots of tequila.

 

Smoking Weed.

 

My first kiss: in the

hot tub, with the boy who made

my ninth grade heart flop

inside my chest.  With

the boy who was

secretly gay.

 

Not enjoying smoking weed.

 

Telling my ex boyfriend

“fuck you,” perfectly timed

or not.

 

My economics minor.

Supply, demand, profits, confusion.

There is a reason

 I am an English major. 

 

Becoming a bitch and feeling like it fits.

 

Sleeping with numbers

2, 3, 6, 7, and 8.

Because that is all they are,

and that is all I was.

A number.

 

Not sleeping with Chris Dooley,

the beautiful Irishman from camp

 

Believing,

“I was just about to text you”

and “Don’t worry, I won’t

tell anyone.” Hearing

his teammates whisper,

“Was she good?” when I

walked past his table, but

never stopping

to say anything.

 

Feeling too bad to deny

whatever they wanted.  Not wanting to

make anyone mad.  Saying yes,

when I wanted to say no.

 

Flipping off my dad, even though

it was really meant for my brother,

it still ruined Easter.

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