I wrote you a poem, but I forgot it.
I wrote you a song, but I can’t play it.
I thought of this picture, but I didn’t draw it.
I was going to share the lunch I made
but I ate it before you got back.
I called you up this morning
to scold you for not calling me
and then I apologized for ragging on you
and scolded you for neglecting me
and forgot to apologize.
I ruined your favorite book,
tore the back cover clean off
(and the author’s bio).
I deride you in front of your friends.
I am contrary and sulky.
I got fat.
I am full of the best intentions
but I sort of fail the follow through.
I should be studying right now
but I keep thinking about
the way you are,
about you with me,
about the softness of your skin
and the heat of your breath.
And not just because
you borrowed my car
and have work in ten minutes
and haven’t come back yet.