A poem reflecting dating in 2020
Since when did “likes” translate into love?
A story reply shows your interest…
Followed by weeks of silence I wait through
Just waiting for your next reply, your inevitable next view.
I speak up and question you on your actions
Like Tyga, you effortlessly run it back on me,
It’s not me you have you worry about”
don’t you see?
How do you know anything about the Demons…
The critical self-talk going on through my mind’s eye?
If you heard any of the conversations I have with myself, it would
Surely make an insecure soul (re: you) cry.
Ye only ever hits me up after Sunday Service
Because if he didn’t, it would leave him nervous.
Nervous that I had moved on…
Moved on past the games and the lies,
*But I never let them see the tears in my eyes*
And yet here I am still waiting for those replies.
You called my depression an inability to love and therefore,
Ever be loved.
But now it’s time to truly look at me, my soul, my light
For I have learned much now, and it’s high time to emerge from this night
Out of the darkness, the quiet, the sleep
Here she is world, starting to stand on her own two feet.
So please, go ahead and unfollow, unsubscribe and tell me the story
Of how I’ll never find another man like you and all your glory
But what’s good is this…
Consistency. Repeatability. Inevitability.
You still give up a like, a reply, a story’s view…
Always trying to squeeze back in for round two.
She is now standing on her own two feet,
Walking – no, running— towards her soul she’s been waiting to greet
“Hello divine one” she says,
And with that,
I release, and leave you be.