This poem is not about my boyfriend

Georgia-May Stone
1 min readNov 15, 2022

You leave me, untouched

like rooms in a house that are unused
just for show. You want me
pretty, spotless
cobweb free.
You want me — plastic wrapped
and squeaky clean.

Just for show. I am the dining room
you never use. Watching
as you take your meal elsewhere,
anywhere but here. Leaving me with


waiting, as you want me
for what will never come;
a room full of friends, laughing
or a meal just for two, music,
candles burning
walls filled with warmth.

You’ve left me vacant
for so long, now I only ache
for demolition.
Red wine spilt on my cream carpets.
Sash windows, smashed. Cigarette burns
pushed deep into my chair cushions.

No longer do I need your presence
to make this house
in me
a home.

You don’t love me the way I need to be loved.

© 2022, Georgia-May Stone. All Rights Reserved.