I heard them rummaging through your drawers,
the click of the stopper
pulling them all the way out
searching under shin guard socks and boxer briefs
for the warm companions
of the beer cans they saw you throw
from your dorm room window.

I heard you knocking on your neighbors door,
begging them to hide your bottle of ***
in exchange for something
you'd think of later.
A slurred IOU.
A "pretty, pretty please."
Dear god, how could this be me?
I heard you exhale through your smile
after I kissed you
on the other side of your closed door
stealing my heart
weeks before you got caught.
I heard my cotton t-shirt move against my skin
as you rubbed your hand up and down my back
smoothing out the knots
and pulling me closer.

I heard my phone ring after security left
your room. I watched your name glow
on my screen through sleepy eyes.

But you didn't hear me answer it,
and you didn't hear me ask you to stay,
and you didn't hear me ask you anything.
I didn't ask you for anything.
All you heard was what you wanted to hear.
I'm really done listening.