Some men might want to hold you like you are the answer. You are not the answer. You are not the problem. You are not the poem. Or the punch line. Or the riddle. Or the joke.
—Sarah Kay, “The Type”
You are always ticking inside of me and I dream of you more often than I don’t. My body is a dead language and you pronounce each word perfectly.
Do not call him.
Fall asleep to the hum of the VCR.
She must make him happy. She must be —
She must be his favorite place in Minneapolis. You
are a souvenir shop. A place to remind him how much people miss him when he’s gone.
—Sierra Demulder, “Unrequited Love Poem”