If You’re Reading This


if you’re reading this (and i hope you’re not)
the poems are a lie.
i get by without you,
most of the time i’m smiling
and it doesn’t feel like i’m drowning.
you are not the only thing i breathe for.
if you’re reading this (and i’m so embarrassed if you are)
the poems mean so much less than my words.
and if you rely on this as our way of communicating,
the picture is being painted all wrong
and i don’t want you to think this is all i am
you should believe me, not them.
if you’re reading this (and i kind of hope you are)
i loved you in the purest way i’ve ever known
and i hope the poems remind you that you ruined that
and sometimes it still hurts to touch
and i can’t stop touching it some days,
i still can’t believe that love gave up on us on other days.
if you’re reading this (and i am so angry if you are)
i’d ask why you are still reading my poem
but you won’t even talk to me,
ask myself why i’m writing shitty poetry about you,
ask the sky why neither of us can let go
of something so wrong for us.
if you’re reading this (and i know you aren’t)
atleast i’m not talking to myself again
but here i am,
talking to myself,
knowing you don’t even care enough to read this.

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i know that you don’t care enough to read this.