I fear
The shell of a conversation
wait in anticipation
for a metaphor of meaning
an alliteration of laughter
a silky subtle yet savage smile
accompanied only by the blatant absence of a wink
through this jungle I stumble and all the while
it's such empty chatter, and you need not think
that these late night letters drive me to the brink
that's right
do me a favor
and never shed any light
and let me savor every vicously dramatic pause
like the period at the end of our clause
and your next one begins
and the ice I stand on remains - so thin.
The shell of a conversation
if it had an inside
I'm sure it'd be rotten
The sweet thick aroma of spoiled fruit,
like you and I so full of each other
fell from the branch of a tree
over-ripe.
I wrote this about an
ex girlfriend, because everytime I saw her it was totally
naive shallow
small talk bullshit. That bothered me because it seemed
wrong to be so
shallow with a person that only a
month or two before we were so
intimate.