Someone Fix That F***ing Faucet

Chemistry class.
Somewhere in the school,
there’s a faucet dripping.
drip.
I’m sure of it.
drop.
I crack my knuckles,
draw on my shoes.
drip.
write poetry.
I’m over you.
drop.
I swear it.
“I’m insane. Fix me?”
Last night I realized.
Drip.
“I could kiss you better.”
Drop.
could it … ? – no.
no, of course not.
drip.
but yet there it is.
DROP.
the irony might kill me.