I'll stop staring,

I'll stop caring,

I'll stop texting you,

I'll stop hoping you'll like me too. 

There's no point in staring if you don't meet my gaze,

We had to write a poem about an animal

in poetry class the other day,

And I didn't know what topic to choose,

so of course I wrote about you:

A bee flies in front

of my window,

Three months is too long

to hold onto hope,

But here I am clutching it in my fist

like it's my very will to live. 

I need to set it free,

I'll watch it fly across the sky,