I'll put all of my hair
onto one side of my head
and I'll start again.

I'll rewrite the story
that you told me to
I'll write more and play more
because you would approve
but what if I've already lost you.

I used to write poems
that I would let you read
and watching you read them
was justification to me,
and then you would look at me
like you thought I was a writer
and I thought maybe that you liked me
and that maybe we'd get closer
but then you left
time and time again
burning circles in my head
took all the hope back that you left
and ran with it

restless and pathetic
I care and then I don't
and when it counts, I don't,
but I'd choose us talking again
over keeping your sweater
any day.