― Pablo Picsso
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
baulk at talking until you I enter.
A text on my phone emotes more
than you stealing moments of silence
from my vacant stare. Are you still there?
What we have here…is a failure…