Please tell me what you think :)
She doesn't care.
"I want it to work, you can trust me." You tell her.
She doesn't care.
You stand outside with the edge of your left sneaker touching the bottom of the door so she knows you are still there.
She doesn't care.
Your hands are shoved deeply into your coat pockets because your hands are shaking too much.
She doesn't care.
You listen for footsteps, but she's gone to bed.
She is not dreaming of you at all and you can sense that very fact in your very bones.
She doesn't care.
You are freezing and feel like going home, but you don't.
You wait just in case, though you know she will not wake for you.
She doesn't care.
You sigh a cloud of steam before leaving the love of your life to the peace of dreams.
You briskly walk back to your car and try to warm your brittle fingers.
She doesn't care.
You've been standing in the freezing air of winter for over an hour.
She doesn't care.
The key is placed into the ignition and the engine chokes.
She doesn't care.
Upstairs she's listening to your mistakes and failures, opposed to your delight.
The car starts and your heart breaks as you glance up at her bedroom window, the one you used to climb up to on nights like these.
She doesn't care.
The drive home is long and painful, because she isn't sitting next to you with her hand on your neck.
The red light telling you to stop gives you a chance to glance in the memorable back seat and you notice her jacket.
She doesn't care.
Its frail limp fabric is lying so gently, you reach for it and it smells like her.
She doesn't care.
"Do I turn around?" you ask yourself.
You debate the thought in your mind and finally come to a conclusion.
The pounding on her door is anything but subtle.
She's not sleeping.
You knock louder and whisper, "Please come to the door" under your breath.
No noise from inside.
"Come to the door!" You yell, knowing she's listening.
She doesn't care.
She's lying in bed trying to ignore your cries.
You kick the door and drop her jacket on the welcome mat.
She doesn't care.
You sit down next to her jacket.
Your knuckles are red and screaming.
She doesn't care.
Your bones are shivering, but you're hot in anger and frustration.
You glance at the ground before you, "Why?" you ask.
She doesn't care.
You're tempted to knock, just once more.
But you glance at your hand, red and weak.
She doesn't care.
And there's nothing you can do.