I met you last September I think,
you were dying to show me the inside of a janitor’s closet and the inside of you.
Yes, I mean that sexually, because feelings weren’t your thing.
And so I pretended They weren’t mine either.
This is the first time I’ve written about them, my feelings for you.
I am not going to hide behind metaphors comparing you to a drug I’ve never done,
saying you were addiction, that I don’t know why I kept coming back to you.
I’ve written a dozen bullshit poems like that. I am going to disrobe this time,
and no I will not send you a picture. I am going to tell you how I felt after our first kiss.
And I am not gonna say it was hot or that it gave me butterflies below the belt.
After you went back to class that day,
I curled up on the floor in a ball of happiness
because I thought you attached a future to your goodbye kiss.
Because I thought you were tracing love letters on my thighs.
I thought I saw adoration in your eyes when you looked at me
but it turns out your iris’ are mirrors and they were just reflecting mine.
And you say you’ve fallen in love with someone who makes your eyes blue again,
who you have feelings for and so we don’t really talk anymore except for when you want to.
And you’re one who’s coming back now. So don’t tell me how you gotta stay faithful
cause you hand was under the covers and I was on your mind and she was probably at home thinking about how you were probably thinking about her but you weren't you thinking about me. Please stop thinking about me. because that makes me think about you.
But my hands aren't under anything, they're toying with pencils while I daydream of the day this is easy or requited or something. But that’s why it’s a daydream because you think it’s my fault you think of me like that and that you’re never trying to look at me the way you do and that you do not love me. and the only person you care about thinking of is her except sometimes you forget that and that's my fault but that doesn’t even make sense because
we don’t talk anymore, except for when you want to
and I have sat quietly in a corner and wanted you for a year I have not asked for anything. This is the first time I’m asking for anything. And I'm asking you to leave me alone. Because you don’t even want to hold me anymore after you’re done for the night, you are ashamed of me. Because I am your secret.  Because this was supposed was to be a funny  poem about crushes and now you're taking up an entire page and you've taken up too many pages and now this poem is way longer than it’s supposed to be and nothing is how it’s supposed to be
and I’m done.