To the boys who only called me past my curfew

Dear You,

it has been a long day.

you're wondering if I want to come over and watch a movie,

my mother has already gone to bed and 

you swear its just a movie and

you think I'm cute and fun to be around so

I sneak out. 

I curse my car for how loud it is when it starts up,

my headlights are dim so I avoid the main roads and the cops.

There's something about the silence of the hours between midnight and four that I love so much.

At least you gave me a reason to be out between midnight and four.

In your various forms, you have an assortment of alcohol out on a coffee table or desk or basement bar,

but I don't drink.

In your various forms you put on a show or movie and 

inch closer to me until I can feel your breath on my neck and 

your whining voice begging for a kiss,

your whining voice wondering why I even came over if I wasn't in the mood,

and you tell all your friends 

and post online about what a trick I am,

how stupid I am, 

and I drive home, just before my mother wakes up and I turn off my headlights,

turn off my car,

and think of how it once felt to be loved.

You are a coward, in your various forms.