I’m so uninspired you can smell it on me,
stinking up my pores like the type of food that one eats.
I wish that I wasn’t consumed by anhedonia.
I wish I was consumed the way that you are,
filling all your thoughts
and your feelings
rising up your throat like a burp after a hearty meal.
You push me away like a half eaten plate
when I don’t want you like that,
dropping me like scraps left outside for stray dogs.
You hope that one day someone else will come along to consume me
and I’ll let them.
I wish I rumbled with the desire for that like you do.
I wish you didn’t only talk to me because you wanted me.
I want you
to like me as a person and not as a girlfriend.