The Solitary Confinements of a Romantic

I have a nervous twitch. Why am I always inflicted with these things? Just once I would like it if I could go through the day like every other person, without any obstacles or physical hinderances that remind me of why I am less than worthy of your affection.

You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. I spend most nights holed up in my bedroom picking a romantic song, more often than not some kind of Doo Wop that makes me feel just sorry enough for myself that I start to point out my attributes. I sit in front of the mirror bobbing my head back to Penny and the Quarters thinking that we could be like that tragic pair and that one day you would kiss me like they kiss in the movies. You know--when the man cups his hands around the woman's jaw bone and pulls her in. I think we would be good at that, you and me.

The thing of it is, at some point during the evening, I imagine that you are somewhere out there, maybe in your own bedroom, with a 45--not that kind of 45--and thinking these thoughts about me. I know we stare at the same Moon, you and me, but does it make us feel the same way about each other?

I tap my toes on the floor and I wish I had a little bit of booze to enjoy this more. But really all I need is you.

You and me.