i don’t like
how i unfollowed you
on everything:
insta, snapchat, tiktok, whatever.
but you still follow me.
i don’t like that.

i still check up on
when you were last active,
or if you reposted something new.
i have to check
that you’re still alive
now that you don’t
write poems anymore.

everyone looks at me
with disappointment
and accusations in their eyes.
it’s okay, i deserve it.
your eyes haven’t
looked at me yet,
but soon they will.

i’m 2:21 minutes into
transcribing dexter gordon’s
body and soul.
i was gonna give up on it,
but then i pictured
you being proud
of me finishing it.

i wish i wasn’t like this
anymore.
you know that though.
i’d rather you break my heart
than me have to do all the breaking.
i mean,
you have though.