I want it to be like it used to be.

Like it used to be before you kissed me on the front porch.
I'm not sure what triggered it but
you grew distant,
and I grew needy.

And now, here we are,
our short conversation last night our first in weeks,
with me blinking away tears,
and you,
apathetic,
smelling of jasmine
as if nothing were wrong.

You hold him as if to mock me.
Wait! I know it is not so.
I know you do not spite,
you do not stab with cold daggers,
you simply love and love
and I want some of your love for me.