I’m giving you until December 31st,  
to make me change my mind,  
but I won’t tell you.  

For now, I’ll talk to you,  
write about you,  
think about you endlessly,  
and tell my boy best friend all about you.  

Until December 31st,  
I’ll hope your feelings might shift,  
that maybe, just maybe,  
you’ll love me,  
and tell me you do.  

Because five minutes before midnight,  
I’ll send you this poem,  
and I’ll wait for your answer.  

If you don’t feel the same,  
I’ll delete your Snap,  
your Insta,  
the Halloween post,  
and every poem I’ve ever written about you.  

I’ll try to forget,  
but I know I won’t.  

Three years ago,  
we spoke once,  
just a bit,  
and I’ve loved you since.  

We didn’t talk after the game,  
but we met again,  
at that Halloween party.  

I knew you’d be there.  
I made sure I looked pretty,  
hoping you’d notice,  
hoping it would make you like me.  

I don’t think it did,  
even if your eyes  
told a different story.  

I’ll never forget the night you told me  
you didn’t like anyone.  
I’ll never forget it,  
because that was the first time  
I showed someone a poem.  

I’d posted my words on stories,  
but never sent one so raw,  
so personal,  
to someone.  

But I showed it to you,  
because it was about you,  
because with you,  
it felt true.