Giver

You deliberately craft prose for him;
You carefully articulate thoughts for him;
You compose and belt songs for him;
You weep lakes of tears for him.

When will you stop emptying
your soul for a boy who won’t—
read your love letters;
daydream of your thoughts;
hum your melodies;
or even learn to connect the dots?

Will you stop—
when you ink has run dry;
when your thoughts go blank;
when your refrains are sung off key;
when your tears no longer fall free?
When you've got nothing left to give?

Illustration by @shop.sopita