If I wanted to know what love felt like
I would have grabbed your hand under the sheets at midnight
Or kissed your cheek in the morning like the sun gets to do through the window
I would have traced the rim of your glasses with my fingertip
I would have painted the colors of my words with pinks instead of blue
I would have told the truth

But I didn't want to know what love felt like
So instead, I closed the door on your open heart
And drew a line in the sand in between "commitment" and "lust"
And I took a step away from you
And never looked back

If I could cast away Heartbreak
as easily
as you casted away our
Love
this would be
just

Fine.

I hope you remember me on the 29th of every month
And I hope you look at every picture
And think of me
I hope you lay in your bed at night
And feel the memory of my body pressed against yours
Sleeping
I hope the ghost of our relationship
Makes you moan into the night
I hope your dog looks at you
And ***** his head
To ask
Where I've been
I hope your hand feels empty
While you take long drives
With the absence of my hand to hold it

I hope these memories burn into your eyes
And engrave my name into your heart
I hope you remember me

I want
Microwave time
With you
Not
Roller coaster time

I thought
we would have more
time
to fall
out of

love

I stopped writing poetry when we were together, because all my words became devoted text messages and phone calls. Of course, you were never a man who was good with words, and I grew tired of one sided conversational poems. And you grew tired of my expectations for you to reciprocate. So I guess the pain and exhaustion was mutual. It’s a year and a half later, and I’m writing for the first time in a long time. Maybe this is all over. Maybe the struggle no longer exists, and we both are free. You’re free to keep your words to yourself, and I’m free to set my words on fire. I’m sorry. I guess I’ve always been a solo writer.