baby girl,
when are you going to realize
that love isn't hiding
between the seats of his beat-down car;
it isn't sitting on the tips of his fingers
as they trail down your skin,
begging for more;
and you give in,
because maybe if you allow him
this one small favor,
he'll give you the love you want;
but that's not how it goes:
he tells you he likes you
but he needs to take things slow,
and you can physically feel
your heart shattering inside your chest
and the sound of
the sweet lie rolling off his tongue,
and as much as you know
love doesn't work that way,
you keep coming back for more;
baby girl,
i know you want to feel beautiful,
but love isn't created by two mouths connecting
in the darkness
or bare skin meeting bare skin,
and love doesn't present itself
whenever it's convenient for him.