Dear imaginary lover:
It is my deepest regret to inform you
That this song is for you.

I had no choice in this matter.
Somehow the words
Wormed their way into my heart
And burst out the seams
No!
I didn’t have a choice.
I needed to sing about someone
Or the words would shrivel up inside my mouth
Bitter, apathetic cardboard cutouts

Then I saw you
Lounging on that hideous paisley chair—
It really is a hideous chair.
Maybe I’m just jealous because you
Were sprawled across it

And suddenly I only saw you
Once we made awkward eye contact
And oh, how beautifully awkward it was!

Your reaction pumped air into my lungs to feed the swelling words:
Shoulders stirred, head inclined
Lips curved, screamed
“Not bad” without a sound
And I have
Never
Been so proud to be perfectly, adequately mediocre.

I hope that we never, ever speak
Because I need you
Like I need fantasy novels
Like I need ambiguous love songs
Like I need to gaze at the stars
And wonder how touching stardust would feel

And I know you don’t need me
but anyway

The song is for you.