Tuesday, June 17, 2014

Post-Breakup in the 21st Century

And every time I hear my phone buzz, 
I secretly hope it's you.
And 100 "likes" but none from you 
might as well be one or two.
I still check my chat every once in a while, 
just to see if you're online.
Wondering who you're up talking to, 
when that face you're lookin at ain't mine.
And every time I hear a similar voice, 
my heart skips a beat.
And when I see you in the distance, 
my face can't hide the heat.
Every time I see you post online, 
my chest pounds with anxiety.
I hope my posts do the same to you, 
though that might be impropriety
I search your name but never follow, 
just to see what you've updated.
Yet I expect you to like and comment 
though most of your words I've hated.
And every time I hear a metal song, 
I feel slightly sick inside.
And all the things you introduced me to 
are ruined by my pride.
Even still, when this boy is texting me, 
I wish it were my former boo.
I can't call anyone else my angel, 
cause that title was always just for you.
A notification, and I feel 
my subconscious hope begin to rise.
It'll never be from whom I want it to be, 
still I look with wishful eyes.
A buzz, a beep, a bell, a boing 
- remind me I'm not over us.
I'm tired of wishing you still acted friendly, 
when all I do is fuss.
And every time I listen to Lullabye, 
I'm reminded of you-know-who.
Sweet memories used to lull me to sleep, 
now I stay up missing you.
You'll update your status, 
perhaps it's something I should like.
Maybe if you see my name, 
in your chest you'll feel a strike.
Sometimes I remember the hurt 
and your name brings up the hatefulness.
Other times I reflect on sweet moments and 
my heart somehow fills with gratefulness.
And every time I hear my phone buzz, 
I secretly hope it's you.
Please just like my silly post; 
I really hope you do.

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