I stopped believing in his “I miss you”s because they never really showed. 

They felt like empty words on a decorated plate 

served to me just to placate my hunger for affection.

So I eat and I’m full

I eat and I’m not satisfied

I keep feeding on these empty words 

And no matter how many times I ingest them

I can’t seem to fall in love with the taste

If only his “I miss you”s tasted like vanilla ice cream 

on a hot Sunday afternoon

Like hot cocoa on a cold winter night

Like red velvet cupcake melting on my sharp tongue

I wish his “I miss you”s would tickle every single one of my taste buds 

But it’s just a decorated plate of emptiness. 


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