this could be the most terribly written thing i've ever done, but i really appreciate for some sense of honesty. mostly, that has to do with me being drunk.

there was that one time
i wasn’t a coward
and opened up a conversation
about an obscure cult novel
transitioning into talks about other authors
drugs and music and mutual friends
culminating in a kiss

my surprise was pleasant
i almost didn’t expect you to come back

yet you did, with a new cup of beer
even though our friends left we stayed behind
something sweet and feminine and wonderful
lingers on my lips and cheeks
i know i didn’t wear any perfume tonight

drunken promises to continue this sober
i hate pabst and the flash
of cameras right next to my face
i think of blackmail and voyeurism
still, i don’t stop, neither do you
breaking away with a bitten lip
we look each other up and down
press our bodies closer
go in for just one more
before i have to leave and you’re staying behind
just one more
just one more

there was that one time i wasn’t a coward
there was that one night
there was that one chance

now i’m home
and simply put
i can’t ****ing wait.
the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones that never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn

I actually liked this. It's honest, real - You can tell it's not some stylised poetic experience- it's an actual event

I really don't want to pick at the structure and pacing or even the wording, because it'll just remove that honesty from it :S

Keep it as it is, but the capitalisation could be fixed :p
Music is an art form that celebrates potential. So long as you're looking for it, you'll always find it.
Yea man, dont know why you were so down on this. Pretty damn good. Its not trying to be something its not, its just well written.

You hate pabst? tsk, tsk.
Your mother likes it ruff, Trebeck.