In honor of World Poetry Day, here’s a poem I wrote for all of you and for me.

“Give me a clean slate,” he says.
I try to, but all my slates are dirty.

“I’m trying to do better,” he says.
Don’t try. Do.

“I don’t want to talk about that anymore,” he says.
It’s all I wanna talk about because I’m still pissed.

“I’m thinking about you,” he says.
So? I don’t care.

“I miss you,” he says.
I miss you being good.

“Give me a clean slate,” he yells.
I would, but you keep fucking up.

“I love you,” he says.
His words ring hollow in my ears.

I don’t know about him.
But I know I don’t wanna fall in love.