and I was hoping you would read it,

but that’s only a hope.

I might very well pester you until you say-

‘It’s great.’

You don’t really care though.

Your eyes pass across it-

-blind.

Like I’m not there, and it’s not there.

And you don’t really care, do you?

I was hoping you would read it,

that you would take it, and hold it close,

and you’d find me somewhere in it,

Zoom out, see the vastness of the world,

‘I see you now.’

For once, I can see me.

You have no eyes 

for the beauty there might be

in this poem - so you can’t find me there.

A year ago, you would have seen it.

We were crossed fingers and promises

Glances became passing,

Then you faded,

or I faded,

until I wasn’t worth it

at all.

This poem is for you,

in the bin or on the counter,

with or without your love.