I've been
blocked lately.
So far there are 3 poems in my head at all times,
but it's hard to spit them out.
I want
to be petty.
I want to play dirty,
to make you feel
even just a little
uncomfortable,
a little jealous,
somewhat
heartbroken.
Because nothing I do
could ever equate
to the games you've
constructed
or the lies you feed
yourself.
And I want to let my body make
these bad decisions
for me.
But the feeling is fleeting.
I'm above it,
at least I have to try.
I don't hurt
the innocent.
A heart isn't a playground.
And I don't need to punish you.
You'll do it yourself,
having realized
you let me fly
away.
