reading your blog
on a bus,
my heart stops
and then starts again
at a much faster pace.
sometimes,
I text your old number
just to remind the universe
that you were/are the love of my life
despite your Junction Blvd.
it's getting easier
to give up on you,
but stuff like this still sets me back,
and now I wont be able to sleep,
not that I ever do.
your half hour agenda
isn't lost on me,
I keep you close
and your word near,
but I don't know if I still want ya.
does he read your blog?
does it affect him
like it stops my heart?
these questions are stupid,
but so is weather.
The trees roar by,
and I will always be
little in your words,
because the AC is busted,
and the electrical outlets don't work.
Forget me,
before I get there,
there is anywhere,
and this poem should be two poems,
and I want to talk to you, but...