I could write a million love ballads that mean nothing
To me
I could pretend to be good
Enough for you when I don’t believe I am
Could I not flinch at your touch?
Learn to not wiggle away
From your lips
As we lay in bed, so close
We are miles away from eachother

I could write about the roses
You gave me
That are now dry and shriveled
In their cup by my kitchen sink
Dead for weeks, but still beautiful
As I will never be
Fragile thorns
Ready to break off in my skin
Threaten me as I change the vase for cleaning

A petal falls to the ground
As you walk into the room
I close my eyes and wait