I told you I didn't want to be alive anymore. Maybe not death, but the way I was living wasn’t for me anymore. You held me close while I was fighting back the tears and demons. That night, you got me to sneak out, you didn't want to be alone either.
That was only a few weeks ago, do you remember it? Can I have that lovely, midnight boy back? Did I ever even have him?
That boy is who I think about when I speak to God about love. Although whenever you talk about love, you really mean lust or your blessed ex-girlfriend who is stuck in a long term relationship (****** buddy, really wish I could help you out here but I’m selfish. Why can’t you like me like that?)
You asked me to hang out a few days ago, I agreed, of course. I miss you more than I can admit. I told you, no ***. You texted me back, “what’s the point in hanging out if you are going to be boring.'' But what’s the point in falling for a guy who’s an ******* half the time.
Honestly, my version of the “good” you is pretty *******. I mean I wonder if my friends truly believe that you could have said half the **** you seemed to have genuinely meant. I always, always, present you like the best guy you could ever be. Here I am, once again, not even attempting to badmouth you. You really know how to work my mind. I give you props for that. Midnight boy, the one I admire the most, where did you run off to this time? I miss you. Come back.
Somedays I fear you only lived in my mind. My dear, I’m going crazy. I can’t sort what is real and what isn’t. Did you really say all those sweet things to me, darling? Or did I picture you saying that?  I wish I could get out of my head. Usually, I rant to you, but ranting to you about yourself would just simply be obscured. So maybe you can read my poetry someday and realize every verse on every poem is soaked in you.
The real problem is you never truly wanted my love. Maybe it made you feel better, maybe you felt powerful with it. Knowing I would do anything to be with you. Really it should make you feel like a ****** person, leading me to believe you really wanted me. You made up things to ensure nothing came real between us. Parents, sports, lust for any other godforsaken female on this planet. Hell, once you told me you don’t know why I even stay around. That if you were me, you would have left a long time ago. That made me think. Would you really? You told me it was a sign we always ended back in the same position. Underneath the stars on your trampoline. The sun would be coming up and I would curse time for still moving in a time like this. A time where everything was so peaceful and lovely. We would distance ourselves for a month or so. But, we would return back there, spilling out our souls. Or at least I did. You told me I knew everything about you, yet you feel like such a stranger to me.
God, please send this boy some help. I tried, I really did. But as the saying goes, you can’t help someone who doesn’t want it. I want all my prayers about him to be granted if that isn’t much of a hassle. I’m wishing you could hear this all. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve cried over this boy, yet I only want the best for him.
I’ve cried and cried. But he doesn’t shed a tear, for anyone.