this is not a poem about you

that place was full of faces
but none of them were yours
it was a veritable sea of not you
and everywhere i turned
i saw you not there

i love nothing more
than a good solid maybe
to keep me on my toes--
when bad music is growling
excessively loud in a dimly lit room
i need me a good distraction
someone to wonder about

i know what you must be thinking
(i'm pathetic and smitten and lame)
but this isn't a poem about you
i don't care nearly enough
to write poetry in your honor--
one kiss does not do me in
a few sideways glances
can not possibly capture
any tangible part of my soul

no this isn't me offering you
a third, fourth, or seventeenth chance--
this is merely me thanking you
for giving me something
to not write a poem about.