I wish I could write an angry breakup poem,
you know, the whole nine yards --
breaking plates, screaming, throwing your clothes out the window.
I felt like I wanted to set something on fire
but when I went to tear your pictures off the wall
my hands were suddenly much too gentle,
wondering all over again
why it had to happen this way.

I hate how you never cleaned your car and never shaved your beard
I hate how you drive too fast, I hate that you never came to visit me at school
I hate that you still told me you loved me even it wasn’t true, but most of all
I hate how you couldn’t give me a reason
for not wanting me anymore

and here I am, stuffing your memories into a drawer and shutting it tight
here I am, staring at the ceiling at 3 am and forgetting how to eat,
sitting on the floor and staring into space
and losing track of time,
sitting at the top of the stairs where no one can hear me in the act of missing
and wishing so badly that I was enough for you

I wish I could write an angry breakup poem
just so I could have something to wound you with
but we both know that isn’t really what I want,
what I want is for you to lie to me.

tell me that you want me to stay.