Where Poems Come to Die

does this make me a masochist?

'why do you stay with him?' they ask her. 

'he doesn't love you. he can't.' 

she knows they're right,  

but she can't believe it. she refuses to. 

so instead, she tells herself, 'they don't understand.' 

'they don't know.' 'they can't ever understand.' 

instead, she turns to the boy beside her 

and whispers 'i love you' 

but he isn't listening, her never is. 

he's looking at the boy across the room, 

wishing he could tell him those same words. 

he knows he shouldn't, but he wants to. 

'why do you stay with her?'  they ask him. 

'you don't love her, you never will.' 

he doesn't really know. 

but she does. 

she understands each time he reaches for her hand

flashing a tight smile though he's never looking at her 

and in the way his hand comes up to touch her hair 

as she fits her head below his chin. 

'why do you stay with him?' they ask again. 

this time, she replies. 

'because he stays with me.' 

***** 

this is for all the people who've loved somebody who can never love them back the way you want them to.