You make me
wanna write poems about you
You have been on my mind for so so long
probably because you were honestly
one of the most handsomest men
I've ever met in my life
that was so so my type
and the funniest thing was
that at the time
I never realized that
We met in Jerusalem
I thought you were gay
because you were so beautiful
the most gorgeous hair
the most beautiful eyes
that I could get lost in
forever
the most beautiful  earrings
we sat on the bed
in your room with all your plants
and pleasured me
I dream of you all the time
we sat on my bed and spoke about
concioussness in hebrew
it seemed fluent on my tongue
when I was with you
I held your curls close to my face
carrassed your hair
stared into your eyes
with lashes so long
you walked to me barefoot
and asked me how you looked
and I told you handsome
you are always so handsome I said
it seemed fate brought us togehter
how weird that was.

You told me how beautiful I was
and that you didn't need anything from me
just to hold me and kiss me
maybe it was because eventhough
you were probably a bit of a player
you showed me that a man can be
romantic sweet and a pretty boy
who is deep
and that people like you exist
so I don't know what this poem is about
but I wander about you
so much
I hope maybe we will meet again
in another metaverse
or down the streets of Florentine
or Dizengoff Telaviv
I wander what that would be like
I love the pretty boys
I try to convince myself
that I am always just gay
but I gotta admit
I love the pretty boys
the ones who are deep kind
have a great fashion sense
and love to strum a guitar
the men that I was always taught not to like
that they weren't "man" enough
but to me they are
because I think real men are kind
loving sweet and beautiful .

Don't break her heart.

I know she and I don't talk anymore
and that she was fine with breaking me
to be with you.

But don't break her for me.
I could never forgive myself.

If you're happy with her,
stay with her.

If you could be happier,
reconsider.

You pretended you meant none of what you told me,
so I pretended that every word you ever said to me was a lie.

Every compliment.
Every "I love you."
Every promise.

Beneath the surface,
I know that you meant all of it
and more.

I just pretend it was all fake
because you told her
she was real.

When you say goodbye,
you don't mean it.
You mean "I'll see you later."
"Talk soon."
"I'll miss you."

When I say goodbye,
I'm gone.

And you can be sure
I'm never coming back.

Finally
remembering
how
to
forget.

Never go through
with being someone's
second choice
because for you to be second,
there had to have been a first.

And that first will always be out there,
somewhere.

I see what you did.

You ignored me for a month
and then just happened to come back
the day before you asked her out
to make sure I still wasn't interested.

I'm not stupid.
I saw right through you,
and I don't appreciate being used.

That may have been well played,
but it wasn't played well enough.

Looking back on it all,
I don't understand why I gave you
so many second third fourth changes.
You treated me horribly
and I let you back in
every. single. time.

I guess I thought that
when I let you back,
you would be different.
You would treat me better.

But each time,
nothing changed.
And the last time,
I just had to say
goodbye.