I guess I’m not ready to see you again.
one sigh,
shivered on the back of a memory
brushed, I thought, I didn’t say.
your spread more real than mine,
a wicker grin and weakly twined with its shallow pretendings
it’s been good easy smooth,
though the plastic knife left these here underneath
but you can’t see through my seeming and I wish
too much while we watch the river lights
you confront and I admit the half that hurts the least.
I hate when I feel like this
buried in abstract nonsense and envious of your health
as I have been.
why I wore my best
I wear my best for you
and fool myself again that this song was meant for me.
