years of heartache
it seems the hole in my heart
just gets deeper and more hollow
and the number of men
keeps growing, declining.
no one has ever counted the freckles on my body,
have taken no pictures, or whispered in my ear the word love.
the poems written about me, have never been seen though
im sure they exist.
i am no ones muse.
and these are things that occupy my mind
while im showering or trying to fall asleep
on the couch because the bed is too big for one.