If you could start doing

What I do

When we bump into each other

That would be great.

I am tired

Of seeing your car

Parked a few doors down

And remembering

All the time we spent

On your front porch

Hoping to god

Your stepfather didn’t

Come out drunk

And beat your ass

For kissing me

In public.

I am sick

Of your arrogant face

And the half-smirk

That curls in your lips,

Hiding the secrets

Of what you did to me,

When you see me

In my own front yard.

I am done

With letting you

Make me feel scared

Or unloved

Or unworthy

Or unhappy.

If you could start doing

What I do

When we bump into each other

That would be great.

Pretend I don’t exist.

Stop trying to talk

To a person who

Isn’t there anymore.