i've listened to your dial tone
over and over again,
so much so,
that it's starting to sound
like i love you

one time we sat in the car for six hours and went back and forth playing our favorite songs and told eachother things that would be shameful to say to anyone else. i liked talking to you and looking you in the eyes because they were dark brown, almost black, and i could see myself in the reflection of them every time i looked. i think you developed a nicotine habit that night, i think that was the only development either of us made. the windows fogged up and i started sweating but i didn’t tell you to turn the heat down because you liked it warm and i would do anything for you. you told me i broke your heart three times but i told you that you broke mine hundreds of times so i win, but the truth was, that wasn’t much of a victory at all. you asked what it would be like if we dated. if we broke up. if we ******. if we never saw eachother again. if we fell in love. i said all of that would be easy for us and you agreed. that one time i loved you. i loved you with your tired eyes and unwashed hair and same outfit worn three days straight. i loved you for six hours and you loved me. but not actually. you dropped me off at midnight. you got back together with your girlfriend by eight at night the next day.

i told you i loved you
and you told me you loved her more
and i got up and knocked over
a pile of solo cups
and went into the shed
in that random backyard
and cried so hard i couldn't breathe
and you didn't leave the party
so i got wasted and high
and i pretended like you didn't exist
and left every twenty minutes
to cry in that ******* shed
and gone was the boy who would answer my calls at two in the morning,
and along went the
dreams of being an astronaut
and feeling like the sun was close enough to melt the ice settled on my skin
because you were my sun
and i got too close
and i got burned

we used to sit in my basement
and listen to the wild youth,
while smoking cigarettes
i stole from my mom
we talked about dying our hair
and moving in together after college
and ******* girls
and making breakfast
and our dreams
and you were my best friend
and now you're just a
person in a story i love to tell

you blocked my number,
so i deleted yours, and by deleted,
i meant that i copied it onto a sticky note and stuck it behind my bed,
because i know one day i'll call you,
you won't answer,
but i'll still call.