I can’t

You say you love the rain, but then you want to stay inside on a tiny blue screen and music. I say come dance with me, you say but then you couldn't hear the music. I say I'd sing for you, I'd make you laugh, I'd be a better person, all for you. I can't. You can't. You say you want me. Is it true? Then put your phone down and have a real conversation. You say we'd hang out. You cancel. I go help out at a carnival. I ask what you did. Video Games. You say you'd break if you lost me, but would you break more if you couldn't have electronics? You call riding bikes old fashioned. I call it memorable. I won't call you out. I can't. You've been broken too much. But when, when will you be the one to plan when we meet, when will you be the one who can make a list of everything they like about you? When will you understand that I shed tears for three nights as you decided between me and another girl. I can't shed tears for when you choose electronics over me. I can't, and I won't. You say you love me. But how can you? You know nothing about me except maybe for my favortie color. I know everything about you, I start the conversations, I don't want to be the one to end them. I can't, so I won't. But I'll dance in the rain, I'll sing as loud as I can to drown out the noise. I'll laugh. I'll make memories. I'll break. I'll cry. But I'll also get up again. Maybe I will shed tears. but maybe I'll wipe them away and get a good rest, knowing tomorrow I'll be a better person. I'll rebel, will you notice? Maybe you can't. I will.