You’ve changed your nose.
It looks good, I’m not gonna lie.
You wear better clothes,
You’ve found your style.
And for a while, I forget why I ever left.
But you open your mouth
And your stories are a broken record
Of mistakes you cannot move from.
And then I remember
Beneath the beauty and bluster
Is the same you.
I tried fixing your heart
and you let me.
Out of kindness, I suppose.
Who knows?
But upon careful examination,
My unfavorable conclusion
Is that your heart’s not broken.
It just doesn’t beat for me.
I’ve dry-cleaned the gown that I’ll wear in that surprise party you said you’d throw me one day.
And I’ve packed my suitcase just in case we finally make it to that trip you’ve promised.
I’ve brought my boots out if you ever think of going on that hike.
Our list is getting longer, but not my patience.
I’m so ready for you to be ready.
I am a wound ball of string, but with your slightest touch,
I fall and unravel.
A single slip and I am back to untangling
the mess that you make of my heart.
Make Room for Poetry 