The Order In Which It Was Received

I stalked you last night.
On Google, anyway.
And Facebook.
And in a dream involving you and a camouflage sleeping bag.

It’s the best I can do.
I know you don’t understand.
Why we stopped.
Why we never began.
Why even though he isn’t good,
I need to be.

You should know
I didn’t chose him over your haunting eyes
and witty banter
and the way your shoulder always smelled
like my favorite soap
whenever I cried on it.

I chose him
because he was there first.
How do you explain
timing and expect
someone to wait?

I stalked you last night.
I watched you move on.
Wondering why I didn’t beg you
to wait for the day
when the last straw will break.
When I can finally
be happy with you
and live with myself,
too.