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.