We don’t make eye contact anymore.
I ask you; you’re FINE!
All of your venom is reserved for me,
it’s all mine. Was it something I said?
Something I left unsaid?
If your demeanor was any meaner
I’d be pushing up the daisies instead.
Call me crazy (you always do), but you never
balk at talking until I enter the conversation,
the cause of my consternation!
A text on my cell phone emotes more elation
than you stealing these moments of silence
from my vacant stare. Are you still there?
What we have here…is a failure to…
© Walter J. Wojtanik – 2016