i listen to her rant about her boyfriend,
about how he never calls, about how
        this isn’t ***** dancing, my name isn’t baby.
i nod when i’m supposed to and agree
when it seems necessary.
       how are you and that guy doing, anyways?
i tell her that we’ve been doing fine
and that he never buys me flowers.
        what a shame, pretty girls deserve flowers.
i think about it later that night,
about how i never get flowers.
        you’re pretty enough, really.
i can hear his voice inside my head.
i close my eyes and i can see him.
        why don’t you believe me?
i want to tell him that pretty girls
deserve flowers, and he has yet to deliver.

1st month:
                  you laughed at all my jokes and kissed me gently. you seemed        to live for every word i said and gave me all of your attention.

6th month:
                   you held me like i thought only you could. you started to kiss me harder and tell me stories of your past, and you would laugh at them and i wouldnt discover why they were so funny to you. i gave you all of my attention.

1st year:
               i recycled the same jokes and you pretended not to notice and would chuckle. you hands traveled up my shirt and i pretended not to notice as you would unzip my jeans and wink. it was a big game to you and i gave you all of me.

1 year 6 months:
             you cheated on me and i still let you play me like the sudoku games you loved so much. i stayed with you because i was so dependent and i pretended not to notice that when you kissed me it didnt mean anything anymore, and i gave you all that was left of the shell of me.

2nd year:
              i broke up with you because she gave you more than i could. you told her all your stories and she understood why it was funny. she used my jokes and you laughed. i had given you all of me and didnt have anything left more myself.