
You Don’t Want Me
not the way I pray you do
It is compilation of every little things that you said, how you spelled love like it was the hardest thing you do even after shots of vodka you took while smouldering me in tenderness and reluctant kisses. You said I looked fine and I never believed that but I did feel beautiful when I was around you. I felt safe and you should know I had never felt save around guys since 2018. You changed that.
But you didn’t want me, I just know it even when you looked straight into my eyes as if there was no other person in the room. Your friends told me you had a little crush on me but I couldn’t believe them when you told me you loved someone else. Someone that ain’t me.
I caught you staring again when I took off my clothes under the shoddy lightning and crazy dancing. You said you weren’t looking but it was a white lie because I remembered I had you gaping. You didn’t know I put that on the show just for you, and now you will never know.
But you didn’t want me, not as crazy as I wanted you. I felt that in your kisses when I captured your lips I thought you were drunk. You weren’t and it confirmed my suspicions that you weren’t looking what I was looking for between us.
Everybody said you wanted me but I bet everyone was highly intoxicated to the stories of small attractions and sparks between friends to involve to something serious or god forbid commitment. When two nonbelievers crossed path, nothing shall be exchanged but repentant small pecks in the lips and a little lap dances.
But you didn’t want me anyway, I realized when we were stuck thank to the pouring rain. You tidied my sweater because my bra was showing and offered me yours. You told me you were sober that night when I lashed out and showed my craziness and you kissed me when I asked you to. I was taken aback and I hoped to take back that kiss, soon.
I haven’t heard from you in days but I saw you everyday from afar, you were laughing and looking happy but I would know that look anywhere. You were sad and done with life. You looked like you once wanted to end it but didn’t. I knew because I did.
But you didn’t want me. You told me that you were scared for me, that you were worried. You saw scars on my forearm and ran your fingers through them as though they were still wet. You asked what happened and you told me you were scared I might do it again.
You ran your fingers through my hair a day before I chopped it short. You said I looked just fine and I should ignore all crazy thought that told me I was ugly because I wasn’t. You were the only one I believed when you say I didn’t look half as bad.
But you didn’t want me. Not the way I wanted you.
