I saw you at the university
and immediately acted.
I stood up and walked quickly,

but you were on a bicycle,
and I soon gave up.

I felt desolate and sad.
Small men baked
pizza inside my chest. They used
my heart as dough and my
blood as sauce. My words to you
were the cheese.

I spent a long time
thinking of ways to see you
again, but I knew
the harder I tried,
the worse I'd fuck up.

My best bet
was to give up.

I ate the pizza
alone;

it was tasty.



About the author:
Andy Riverbed is the author of the poetry collection, Damaged. You can read him at andyriverbed.info

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