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I’m sorry
You seem lovely
But I just
Can’t
Care
About the things you love
So please don’t try
To care
About
Mine

You’ll have to excuse me
When you ask what I have planned for the rest of the night
“Study,” I mumble, and you watch me curiously
“I thought uni had finished for the year,” you reply, and I stall–
Lies don’t usually backfire this way
“I’m doing a summer semester.” Quick, smooth, effective.
You nod. “Oh, okay.”
You give me your number. I give you a number in return; mostly mine, change a single numeral
You’re excited
You think you’ve hit the jackpot
You’ll text that number twenty minutes after we part:
“I had fun tonight”
Some poor person will receive this and frown
Text you back, “Wrong number”, and for the next few hours,
maybe,
feeling down

I’m sorry
You seemed lovely
But I just
Couldn’t
Care
About you, as a person,
When it was so obvious
You didn’t care about me
But only the things I can offer:
An easy fuck, quick satisfaction
I know how this dance goes.