I did not love him as the food blogger loves the green smoothie

As the copier loves the empty blue cartridge 

As the mannequin's arms love the shimmy and twist

I love him like he is an anxious match and I am an orphanage in summertime

I love him like how eighth grade loves eating disorders and how young romance loves car accidents

He is my last sip with trembling fingers as the van leaves with the kids

He is not the roses at my grave, but the shovel next to it

I would not call him during a code yellow school lockdown and I would not call him on a Tuesday

I love him not with the passion of passengers diving for the lifeboat

But the finality of the lifeboat diving for the bottom of the sea