it's pathetic really
how much i still care
even though you trampled my meadow
with little concern for the flowers,
their crushed petals
left in your wake—
it's pathetic
how i still worry about you
how i care about your grades
and whether you get out enough,
i'm tempted to text you
just to ask—
but you?
i don't know if you still care.
whether you feel pathetic
for wondering how therapy is going
or if things are okay with my dad
if you wonder what my finals grade was
in that class i was failing—
it's a mystery to me.
you seemed so okay when it was over
but that can't be really be true
not if you loved me
not if you loved me the way you said
not if you loved me like i loved you—
i don't know if you still care
i'm not even sure now
if you ever really did
—did you ever love me the same?
YOU ARE READING
thorns and other maladies
Poetryanother collection of poems. *TW: mentions of sexual assault, drug use, self harm and other sensitive topics*
