You needed a website to tell you
we are an 82% match before you
decided you missed me and how
you could always fold me up
and keep me in your pocket-
and could reach for me whenever
it was convenient-
when you needed a soft place to land-
and then put me away for weeks-
and the silence in between hung as
heavy drapes over my self-esttem until
there was nothing left.
and I find myself lucky that
in thirteen long months we never
posed for silly pictures because
no one hangs heartbreak on their walls-
but I can laugh at how you describe
yourself and passive-aggressively
mention me in your profile
like you were the one always
bending over backward
like you were the victim
but yes, “fancy seeing you here”,
but there is a boy with a smile
that isn’t always condescending
and he likes my book collection
and doesn’t think that
the rabbit hutch I built is crooked

and he is an 83% match.



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