i cannot stop
replaying the
memory
of us
sitting on
my bed
and you
telling me
that you are
in love with me
for the first time
i cannot help
but wonder
if it all
was a lie

i have this polaroid of you
and i don't know what
to do with it
i took it off of my wall
but it doesn't feel right
sitting in the drawer
and i feel like
maybe i should
send it back to you
because maybe it
was never mine
in the first place
maybe the smile
the moment
the trip
maybe your heart
maybe your dimple
maybe our memories
were never meant
for me

i should have taken it as sign
when you told me
you hated poetry
not because
i need you to like
everything i like
or i need you to appreciate
everything i appreciate
but because
when i told you
what it felt like for me
to write poetry
and to read poetry
the feeling of being
grounded and understood
all at once
the feeling of
having somewhere to escape to
and finding a home
you still told me
you hated poetry

and yes
i hate myself
for needing to
hear you say
i did nothing wrong
i wish i didn't
need to feel validated
but i needed to know
that this was real for you
that you don't regret it
and you don't hate me

and the hardest part is
all i want to do
is call my mom
i want to tell her everything
i want to tell her about you
the loving
the longing
the leaving
but the last person i can call
is my mom

when we were together
i only listened to music
i knew you would like
i only wore clothes
that you would like
i only did things
i knew would
would make you happy
and now that there is no we
and i have given you my ribs
to hold you up
i am exposed
but there is nothing left
of me
how long will it take
to find myself
not find myself exactly
but to rebuild myself
into something
that does not revolve around
you

you told me you
don't want to talk
about the breakup
and i realized
that you
can think about
things other than
the breakup
how nice it
would be
to be free enough
to talk about
other things