Pinch Me, Lovebug

A summer fling can pinch.

Even when you expect it to end.

It still hurts, just a bit.

You didn't say why,

But I never asked.

I would never tell you,

But maybe it hurt a bit.

And if my phone wasn't dead,

I might embarrass myself.

Even though at the beginning,

I knew you weren't the one.

But I wanted us anyway.

You never knew that I wrote poetry.

Or dress up and twirl around my room when I'm upset.

Because you never really cared to know.

But guess what, lovebug,

I never really knew you either.

And I'm not twirling now, trying to make myself feel better.

I'm ok. I'll be hurt worse. I've been hurt worse.

A summer fling can pinch.

But pinches only sting for a second, never scaring.

And to be honest, lovebug,

It didn't really hurt.