I drew nearer to the group, noticing some new faces, hands in my pockets. "Uh, I sorta fazed out there for a while," I said, ruefully. "What did I miss?"
I wake, finding the man from before around us again, and subconsciously scoot closer to Niall, whose arm is still around my shoulders. Making sure my cap still conceals my identity, I set my head back on Niall's shoulder, wanting to see how far he'd let me go with this.
I'm never what I like I'm double sided And I just can't hide I kind of like it When I make you cry 'Cause I'm twisted up, twisted up Inside
He lets out a huff and slings his other arm around me, and I wonder if he is truly sleeping. Smiling, I shift so he can hold me without either one of us in an awkward position.
I'm never what I like I'm double sided And I just can't hide I kind of like it When I make you cry 'Cause I'm twisted up, twisted up Inside
He begins to wake and I open my eyes, catching the flicker of a smile sent my way. I smile back and wait for him to say something or be the first to pull back.
I'm never what I like I'm double sided And I just can't hide I kind of like it When I make you cry 'Cause I'm twisted up, twisted up Inside
The idea that a poem was a made thing stayed with me, and I decided then that I wanted to be an artist, not just a diarist. So I put myself through a kind of apprenticeship in writing poetry, and I understood even then that my practice as a poet was deeply related to my reading. — Edward Hirsch