By Ashley O’Hare
The smile creeps across your face
like it knows it belongs elsewhere.
Why do you get to feel joy
while I am running scared?
Turn around- walk out that door;
my heart can’t take much more.
Keep your feelings to yourself;
I do not care who you adore.
My skin is crawling from your touch
like a hundred little bed bugs.
You were supposed to leave months ago–
I guess I’m fresh out of luck.
How much more do you want from me?
You’ve already stolen my dignity.
I’m beyond tired of staring at my ceiling
long past a quarter after three.