when they don’t love you back
and no poem, no movie, no book on this good earth makes you feel strong enough to walk away
you will stay.
dig your feet into the sand.
you bury them.
and wait for the tide to rise

you’ve tried it all before, haven’t you?
you’ve tried to be every person they ever loved, and they still don’t see you
so you think
maybe if you just yell a little louder, they’ll turn around and meet you halfway
you think maybe
maybe if you set yourself on fire they will pull you from the wreckage
giving anything for you not to turn to ashes
but it never works that way

you always thought heartbreak was hidden in silence
until he introduced you to the earth shattering symphonies made from the echoes of a dying heart and a soul’s last breath
you are alone but you will not leave
because you think the false idea of his company is better than not having any at all
so when he calls, you will answer
you will tuck your pain into your wallet
hide it into your back pocket
only to take it out when you want pay for one more night in his ghost presence

when he reaches across the table to hold your hand
you will notice his hands aren’t the soft memories of release you had once grown accustomed to
you will see how they’ve become cages and you are the entrapped songbird
writing melodies in hopes of discovering any trace of love left in him
but all you will find are broken and scratched records that don’t even get stuck on your favorite parts of the song
but you stay
and you can’t bring yourself to cover your ears
because some noise is better than none at all, right?

when he asks you over
you don’t want to but you will go
wearing his favorite outfit, his favorite perfume, straightening your hair because the curls were too much
you have found yourself a slave to an unwilling master
you will knock on his door and he won’t meet you at the top of the stairs like he used to
he won’t stand to embrace you when you walk in the room
you will sit in silence as you watch him work and convince yourself that this is exactly how it used to be…how it should be

when he asks if you want to stay the night
you will not answer
instead curl into a ball on the side of his bed you once called your own and try to find familiarity in what has become foreign territory
he will spill words down your throat that you will believe are remedies to your self hatred
you will breathe out “i miss you”
and he will tell you to stop saying that
you will mistake this for love

when morning comes you will find yourself hoping when he wakes and rolls over to see you sleeping
he will believe you are angelic, wake you with a kiss, and tell you he prefers to see your face bathed in the sunlight so he can admire every detail
but you know, he will not
you know, he likes hiding you in the cloaks of midnight where he can make your face look like anyone else’s but your own
and morning is just a reminder of the regret he chose you
because you are nothing but a cemetery to him
a place he goes to when he wants to reminisce over what is already dead

when they don’t love you back
and you can’t bring yourself to walk away
you will stay.
dig your feet into the sand
you bury them and wait for the tide to rise.
let an ocean of unrequited overtake your body.

a part of me drowned that night when you said you never loved me
i am still trying to learn how to resuscitate her and stop calling her murderer a past lover