Friday, April 1, 2011


We don't make eye contact anymore.
I ask; you're FINE!
And all your venom is reserved for me,
it's mine. Something I said?
If your demeanor was any meaner
I'd be pushing up daisies instead.
Call me crazy, but you never
balk at talking until I enter the conversation.
A text on my phone emotes more elation
than you stealing moments of silence
from my vacant stare. Are you still there?
What we have a failure...

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