~dead poets society~

↬ knox overstreet ↫

this is a song imagine requested from @justicefobarb i suggest listening to the song it's rlly good.

"alright everybody, thank you so much for coming out tonight. we have just one more song for you this is 'boyish'." your voice amplified through the mic in the smallish smoke filled diner where your band was playing.

your boyish reassurance is not reassurin'
and i need it.

beginning to strum your guitar to the song with the drums in the back. the small crowd gathered around the stage starts to cheer and sway to the mellow beat.

if you go to her don't expect to come home to me.
to me.

the familiar ringing of the diner door chimes as a familiar couple take a booth. his arm's wrapped tightly around her shoulders while his eyes pierce straight at you.

so here we are, we're just two losers.
i want you and you want something more beautiful.

the words begin to sting and you try to stay focused on singing and strumming. all the past pain from knox leaving you now present as ever.

and all this confrontation is sufferin'.
what do you want from me?
if you don't like how i look then leave.

your eyes burn and your throat itches but you keep going trying to distract yourself from the thick tension that now filled the space. and she's just there, looking happy next to him, oblivious to anything that happens because of her.

watched her lips reservin' tables
as my ugly mouth kept runnin'
love me, love me

staring at the ground to hide the river of tears washing over your face and wishing and wanting to dissolve. after strumming the last few cords, you drop your guitar and ignore the calls for an encore to rush out the back door. forgetting to grab your coat, you're met with the bitter winter air. collapsing onto the frost covered ground and sobbing into your shivering hands.

you hated that you still cared. how could you? he sure didn't, he dropped you the second he found someone to be more beautiful. that's just all he did, not a second thought. as you watched the small flakes swirl through the crisp air, you're reminded of the day he left and took chris to the fucking play.

swiping your cheeks and putting on a brave face, chest swelling with dread and resentment, you open the back door to grab your things before going home and finally letting go of something that's gone.

xxxxxxx
my neighbor has been on the phone for HOURS and mmmm it is juuuicy, james has seriously fucked up!!
-g.