Idea of Love

he didn’t love me;
he loved the feeling of my lips
on his.

she didn’t love me
she just liked when I
made my way between her hips.

he loved the poems
I produced
and the words I
only said to him
but he didn’t love me

he loved the way he thought
I was his
because I let him believe,
but, him and I, we never
‘we.’

so he might of loved me
if not for the gaps where
I ended and
he began

so she could have loved me
if she didn’t curl up with
the pills and whisper,
“I can’t.”

and I didn’t love me.
I loved the way I existed
and I could have loved
the way I lived

but I was too busy
loving on a
whim.