PoemsBrowse PoemsSlamsFresh DropEchoes
LearnWriting TipsPoetry TermsPoets & ArtistsBooksFor Teachers
ExplorePoetry GenomePoem MapEchoesTake ActionGroups
AboutWrite a PoemDonateSign UpLog In

im used to being disappointed


his hand lingered in the cereal, his touch was warm on my thigh,

he told me he loved me one time i think, i thought he saw me,

we were supposed to end up together, it brought lasting damage,

not a word for a year, a poke in the lunch line, a dirty look, all the same,

the rest is all in my head

©All Rights Reserved

Something wrong with this poem?

Share

Replies are closed for this poem.

Your Poem's Voice

See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.

Comments (0)

No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.

Log in to leave a comment.