Game Over
You tell me, "Baby, talk to me."
So I do, so faithfully.
I hand you every fragile part,
each hidden corner of my heart.
But while my soul begins to pour,
your eyes drift to that screen once more.
Mid-sentence you begin to speak
not to me, but to your weekly streak.
I stop.
I sigh.
I bite my tongue.
Another conversation left undone.
So then I write instead of speak,
because hope survives another week.
I send you messages, line by line,
each one saying, "Please... notice mine."
The next day, by a twist of fate,
I see your phone illuminate.
Thirty-two messages...
Unread.
Thirty-two pieces
of my heart left for dead.
Tell me now, what do you mean
when you say we should convene?
What communication do you seek
when you never hear me speak?
Should I build a character too?
Maybe then I'd matter to you.
I'll trade my tears for armor bright,
earn experience points every night.
Maybe if I fought a dragon's flame,
you'd finally remember my name.
Maybe if my heart had levels to gain,
you'd notice my invisible pain.
If my words mean next to nothing,
why keep asking for discussion?
Is "communication" just a chore,
a checkbox you've been keeping score?
Because here's the truth
and this much I know...
You hear me just fine
when your passion starts to grow.
Suddenly your eyes find mine.
Suddenly your timing's fine.
Suddenly your words are sweet.
Suddenly my heart's worth keeping.
So keep your game.
Protect your score.
Win every battle.
Collect every prize.
When the screen goes dark
and the room falls quiet,
I hope it's enough.
Because you've spent so long
choosing the world
inside your hand
over the woman
standing beside you.
So get used to the love
of that hand...
It'll be the only one
still waiting for you.
Mine
has finally
learned to let go.
Game over.
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