Poems

I hate this

I sit in a room.
Empty.
Writing on paper with my blue pen.
I write to you.
I know I'm stupid
I shouldn't be writing to you.
But I miss you and you were my masterpiece.
I hate this.
I hate missing you.
And here I go writing this knowing you'll never read it.
Why do I try?
Why am I crying.
You hate me it's clear to see.
I'm done being your play thing.