I asked you for answers and you responded but your words did not put out the fire that blackened my gut and turned it soot,

I thought I loved you so I endured the conflagration and clung to hope-‘she will understand tomorrow. She has to’.

So again I begged you for clarity, honesty, sincerity-praying that this time season finale gossip and prom dress discourse would be forgotten with the arrival of my appeal,

“I love you. No, I really fucking do”

But the same response came again-an awkward teenaged giggle followed by “I have to go”,

And the fire got hotter, and I slowly imploded, like the Tacoma Dome falling in slowmo, embarrassed, lonely, and scattered across a million pointless miles.