Anticipation Doesn't Kill, it Scars

There's a party I'm not invited to,
but I'm crashing it with pride.
I'll count down the days til I
break my heart for the sixth time.

I'll waltz in, unannounced and unashamed,
just to watch you with the girls
I know you'd rather have in lieu of me.
It's not news to me when this unfurls.

The host of the party won't even know
the reason for crashing when I've
no business to be in their home,
no business but what I don't have.

Another few hours I'll merely waste,
dancing with guys but looking at you.
Crashers aren't welcomed in your presence.
But I'll do it; these boys are easy, too.

Mind if I introduce myself to your friends?
Of course not, the others occupy your body
while I casually pretend I don't want you.
I'm not forward, but my moves are shoddy.

In the mist of my scheming for this bash,
I'll count down the days only to discover
that the closer I get to my destination,
the more the pain seems to hover.

Each day, I'll mark off with an X,
another nick on my calendar and heart.
And at the end of this soiree,
I'll have twice the amount from the start.