and i'm stuck shaking writing fevered poetry
with a broken pen between my fingers,
you're stuck dating a girl you don't love.
you equated your writing with some dark diary you
threw off the highway as if
there wasn't anyone supposed to read it-
as if i don't stay awake for long hours
coming up with questions
of what's in transit from your mind
to the paper,
we both know i wouldn't dare read it sober,
today you told me you loved me.
today i told you to stop