I saved up my soul for you,

Packaged it in paper notes and bows…

I never got a letter back.

Maybe your feelings are just slow?

All of the promises turned into ifs,

Maybes as sincere as sin.

I remember every flower; every weed you said,

You told her we were just friends. My dandelion dead.

Vows cast in gold, I thought they meant more.

I know now, that they were made of pyrite.

Molly Stadler is a first year in the Front Street Writers class. She enjoys writing poems about people she loves (or loved) and creating Spotify playlists for her friends. She’s currently a Junior at Grand Traverse Academy. 2018