I write poems for boys who don't even respond to my texts.

I rip my heart in half for people who see a pathway and walk through like it was meant for them to tread and leave their footprints.

I open my mouth to pour out affection and you keep yours in a thin line that does not even budge when I tell you I just want to be with you.

I lose sleep over someone who rolls over the thought of me naked but not the thought of how I look when I'm contemplating or surprised or even belligerently, stupidly angry.

I put trust in you and you boomerang it back, dented and fraying while you tuck yours into your back pocket and save it for someone else.

I carve out time for someone who carves out time within the free time and spare seconds rather than simply making time in the first place.

I write poems about boys who can't even respond to my texts but read them anyway so I'll read my poems and you read my texts and one day maybe you'll wake up with a hollow feeling in your heart and it'll feel that way because by then I'll have stopped writing you, texting and trusting and yearning for your fingertips to trace my lips and your thoughts to coincide with mine and have you want to be inside my head so much it burns and maybe in between my sheets even more.