do you like me (yes)
do you want to be talking to me (not anymore)
is it too much (yes)
am i too much (yes)
am i enough (no)
where is this going (to end)
what do you want (he doesn’t know, except not me)
will you hurt me (yes)
is there someone else (there will be)
do you like me (he did)
do you want me (not enough, not anymore)

I miss being cherished by you
Saying to you I love you too
Falling asleep to you breathing
Being the first I talk to in the morning

I wonder what your doing now
I wish to hug you somehow
But all I feel is an ache in my chest
But to be loved by you I was truly blessed

I think of us when I lay in bed
And all the sudden I feel your warmth spread
But it’s not the same and makes me miss you more
I wish you would know it’s you who I cry for.

I wasn’t crying.
I was hydrating my grief
from the inside out.

He said, “You’re not dramatic. Just detailed.”
I said, “You’re not cruel. Just consistent.”
We called that a compromise.
(or else a hostage negotiation.)

There’s glitter in my carpet
from a party I threw
to prove I wasn’t waiting on him.
I wore white.
Not bridal,
but still white enough
to make someone feel guilty.

I lit sparklers like sirens,
toasted survival.
Nobody clapped.

I collect apologies I don’t want,
write scripts for confrontations
that end in standing ovations,
then lose the footage
in a hardware crash
I secretly caused.

I take the stairs two at a time,
just to feel something chase me.
I text “I’m fine :)”
like it’s a safe word—
to keep the spiral
polite.

I rehearse the voicemail
he never left
like it’s Chekhov.
Like if I say it right,
the gun goes off
and I disappear
beautifully.

At the end of the dream,
he’s always wearing my hoodie—
saying something tender,
just slightly
too late.

And I wake up
with eyelashes on my wrists,
thinking—
Maybe I am the problem.
But God—
you should’ve seen the poems.

How can you pretend we were never close
Treat me like **** because I didn't put you first I needed to distance myself from you
For the first time I was putting myself ahead of others
Saw what you were doing to me was making the pain harsher
So I had to say no
Because caring about you made all my progress lost
I always put others first
Let them step on me so their shoes won't get ruined with dirt
Now I said no
At first you were mad snapped at me
I guess because I was the one that said no
So I'm the bad guy
But now you look at me like dirt on the floor
Like I'm nothing to you
Was I only something to you when I gave you what you wante
Only made me feel like a human When I said yes
You told me to value myself And not harm my body
I guess what you only meant that I should come second
You first
So don't you dare look at me Like I deserve your coldness
Like I'm the bad guy
Don't you dare turn away when I made an effort for peace
Stop making me feel like nothing
For choosing me

I think of you often
More often than I’d like to admit
The ifs and whys and hows of our-

Of our what?
We never really settled on the what
When I talk about you now you are just a code name, a pseudonym, a patient number

I deliver my friends countless never ending monologues about you
And although I never mention your name–the real one not the number–they know exactly who you are

And although I giggle at the nickname we chose for you
It only exists because I feel strange saying your actual one
Saying it would suggest I knew you
It would suggest that I was familiar with you
That at some point we surpassed being strangers
More importantly, it would remind me that even though I know the intimate details of your body, we are now estranged, again
Your once familiar name, now just stares at me in confusion, asking
”Who are you?”

I can’t answer
I can’t tell you who I am to you because the what was never established
We never made it that far
After two months I’d known you for two years
And after two years I’ve only known you for two months

It’s pathetic the way I mourn you
Disproportionate truly
But with these anonymous words, I can confess
I hope you feel the same
I hope my name makes you feel empty inside
Because saying it feels forbidden somehow
Like you can’t just call a stranger by their name

Maybe this would be the perfect time to say “right person wrong time”
And maybe I hope one day we’ll get the timing right
So I use these vague adverbs to avoid confessing that I wish our story gets a sequel

But
I don’t want to be stuck in a loop of Instagram stalking and internet searches
So I’m going to start saying your name
Because I need it to feel strange
And I need us to be strangers, again

The noise upstairs can’t be reigned in
A breath of silent air, a look to my steed.
Like a knight off to war, a countdown from ten
My demons chase daily, doubt planted, a seed

Nine words to split my heart is all it would take
“Just leave me alone. I don’t love you anymore.”
Just irrational emotion, but I feel anger and hate
This final phrase as I walk out the door.

Eight paces away, I step onto my ride
The visceral growl, now broken the quiet
Two wheels beneath, in the machine I confide
Awake and aware, required to pilot.

The sins, seven deadly, they leer and they whisper
The visor hides panic, my heart grows tired
Six words of my own, “Why do I still love her?”
My eyes stream tears, my face is on fire.

My thoughts, a hammer, was that all I meant?
Onto the freeway, five fingers roll the throttle
For this can’t be how our story finds its end
I cry. Raw emotion breaks from its bottle

Three times I have fallen for the same ploy
Faster and faster, the skyline becomes a blur
In traffic I hide, a terrified little boy
It chases, I race, uncertain, unsure

Too apathetic to care, like a jet on the ground
The terror of love haunts all around
The wind roars past, I begin to blackout
I scream and close my—

One text.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. Please come back. I love you.”
I let go of the throttle, the scenery now vivid
In my heart and soul I know that it’s true.
As the bike cools off, I return to her quiet and timid.

An argument no more, we talk through it and explain
At peace, we kiss, lay down, and promise never again.

If we didn’t speak then maybe I could pretend I was a better person.
Pretend who I am now is good and absolved of wrongdoings.
Pretend my regrets only reside in what’s been unspoken.
As if my actions don’t hold the weight I know they do.

Oh, duplicitous lover of mine—
who are you, lying beside me?

The father, whose pride rings from your mouth
like the bells of liberty?

The husband, whose arms once lifted my soul?


Or the traitor who razed his own kingdom—
a castle turned to rubble at your feet?

So cunning, you are-
the parasite at the bottom of the glass,
a shadow shifting in the room,
with poison on your tongue.

Do you love me today?
Or them?

How long will your eyes cling like cobwebs
to strangers who were never yours to seek?

How long before you feel
how cold our bed has grown?

My touch?

How long until you notice
I am not asleep—
just lying beside a memory.  

I’ve heard your denials,
your guilt already etched in stone.

Your hands hold me like a promise.
Yet,  your eyes betray me like a curse.

And still—
I feel the echoes of our late-night dances
stream down my face as I cry today.
Different tears.  

Same man.

I am the witness to your storm,
and still I reach for your warmth—
like a ghost returning
to the scene of its death.

I do not know the man who holds me.
But I remember the man I love.

So I lie still in this haunted bed,
wondering if I am mourning
you—
or myself.