Recently I have been seeing so many lovely young women stay with boys who aren't worth their time, making excuses for their behavior. I decided it was time to write a poem about it from my own experience. Here's to you, ladies!

Sixteen

He loves me, he loves me not.

He loves me. That look in his eye as he smiles. I am captivating to him. He is searching me for his heart's desire.

He loves me, he loves me not.

He loves me. We speak the same language. Fluent sarcasm with the hidden hint of heartbreak. He understands my heart.

He loves me, he loves me not.

He loves me. Everyone can see it in our eyes, they tell me all the time.

He loves me, he loves me not.

He loves me. He loves me, not? When I see him today, his eyes so dull and hidden away. I search so hard, but they don't come out to play.

He loves me, he loves me not.

He loves me...not. Four times I've joked but he no longer laughs. The only sign of life: the tired smile, a smile that never belonged to me.

He loves me, he loves me not.

Oh! He loves me! Dancing. Laughing. Playfulness. Joy is abounding. His laugh is full of life, I'd never seen his eyes so bright. What changed?

He loves me, he loves me not.

He loves me... the life has returned but suddenly he doesn't know me. His jokes are new, of a foreign nature. Where did he visit, so far away?

He loves me, he loves me not.

He loves me? His light shines brightly, but not just for me. I saw her nudge his arm. A smile, a laugh. But no. He loves me.

He loves me, he loves me not.

He loves me... maybe. She's suddenly everywhere. Church, the grocery store, school. He called her beautiful today... It's okay, he loves me. He told me. He loves me.

He loves me, he loves me not.

Does he love me? Her name plastered to his phone screen. Ten different times within the hour. My heart, both beating fast and nearly stopped.

He loves me, he loves me not.

He loves me. Apparently, he always will but "maybe we should see other people." Maybe we should see other people means "I already am."

He loves me, he loves me not.

He loves me... no. Absolutely not. My eyes are dry and swollen. My stomach? Empty for days. My body felt so much pain, it's now entirely numb.

He loves me, he loves me not.

He loves me. Three months have passed and he has now felt destruction. Crying at my feet, begging.

He loves me, he loves me not.

He loves me. But the joke is on him, I don't give a damn. It's now been four years and I. Am. Done.

He loves me, he loves me not.

Who loves me? Not he, but I. I love me. I see my beauty. I know and understand the beating of my heart. I know how to laugh. I can dance on my own. I've found true joy, and I found it alone.