end of june (and us)

its friday morning and i take my coffee black

only i get nauseous when i realize that

coffee with no creamer is the perfect color to

match your eyes, the ones that i have not

looked into since tuesday

i seemed to have been so blinded by my feelings

for you that i could not realize the

lack of feelings that you've shown for me

and then i cant help but wonder when exactly it

begun, i pour my coffee down the drain and

fight the urge to ask "when did you stop loving me?"

by saturday night im confessing to the moon the ache

i feel for you and when she doesnt respond

i know its because shes too busy shining on lovers

that are tangled together, kissing beneath her

i whisper

"please, let those lovers last a lifetime, even if him and i dont."