You'll learn to hate me,

but you still call me baby.

i hate the hard nights.

& you can tell me that you're sorry,

but I don't believe you, baby, like I did before.

So don't bother,

i'll be fine, but she's waiting.

i haven't written a poem in forever. this is the result.

i was looking for

something fun,

light, easy; something

to burn quick and

fierce, yet not

leave me scorched.

and there you were,

sitting in my room.

i won’t deny

that i wanted to

be wanted,

that i wanted you

to want me.

being with you

was simple, comfortable,

and effortless, at least

at first.

i wanted to be

consumed by you,

to spend all day,

like i did all night:

laying on my futon,

discovering myself

in your arms.

i had been

dormant, hidden,

trapped inside.

you demolished my

barricades, and i was

flooded with the feeling of

being alive.

your lips against

mine, your hands roaming

my body, my skin

reawakening to your touch.

in that moment, i only

wanted infinity, for it to

never end.

but i didn’t just

yearn for your body,

i craved all of you.

you shared your secrets,

your fears of what

will come next, the past

that made you the

remarkable guy you

are today.

you told me i

could trust you,

and i did.

he left me with grueling

feelings of inadequacy,

i knew i would not be

enough for you to choose

to stay. and i heard the time

ticking itself away,

it wasn’t long before

you’d be gone

anyway.

i was scared of

what it meant to

want you like i did.

when you started to

place some distance between us,

i realize i only clung on

more tightly.

i should’ve let you go easily,

you were never mine

to keep.

the end was not fun,

simple, or light,

like the beginning.

it was messy, and you

(admittedly) handled it

with a lack of thought

or sensitivity.

i care about you to

a degree which

surprises me, and i will

support anything which

drags that lovely smile

across your face.

even when it means

that she gets you,

and i am left with

only scorch marks.