I don't want
to be striking, I don't want to be
mesmerizing
and please do not throw “hot” at me
.
I don't want
the recognition you give
those girls, so easily
so routinely
.
.
so frequently
.
tell me your reason for this
all of it
maybe it's good
.
probably it's devastating
.
and maybe I won't question anymore
I'll stop challenging
I'll giggle and agree
(like you want)
I'll be so very much like those
remarkable girls
.

our relationship
is me wanting to cut off all my hair
because you Let me fall
asleep to you stroking
it,
.
our relationship is
ignored texts
&
read receipts
.
our relationship
is a horrible,
uneven mix of
realism and your romantic tomfoolery,
I don't know how I'll
ever
quit it
.
coffee and cigarettes
on the frosted sidewalk
classical music at 3 am
borrowed
and returned(?) sweaters
tedious and enthralling questions
mutual humor
under the breath
shared breath
streetlights and sunshine
appreciation for life and love
substance in emptiness
.
gossip
harrowing and defiling and
sneaking its way into every interaction,
judgments and standards and
I'm never
ever
good enough
to be like them, those
significant and aware and profound and charged girls
.
it's good for nothing and
I'm afraid
nothing will ever be as good

Do you know how I waste away
now? Sleeping, in dreams
Walking, in thought
showering
It's disgusting
and wrong
but there is nothing else I would rather be doing
.
you're there
.
I hate you
I hate how you make me feel
about your cruel ridiculing laugh
about your face as you tune
about your strict stiff shell
your eyes that bloom
and
it's
putting me
through
hell, Lord do I want you
.
I beg and beg
of you, get out of my mind
Never
ever let me get into yours. But, well
that's Never been much of a problem, has it?
If it has
if it is,
by some chance
.
.
never give me one
.