Sunday, July 2, 2017


Our goodbyes aren't punctuated
 by hugs, but with an awkward 
detachment hanging midair;
You, with caution,
I, with propriety in mind.
because the air between us feels
so tense that I am conscious
of even the slightest of movements.
I laughed so much last night
when you mentioned that
I might be averse to hugs
because you don't know the half of it
and I am not sure I am willing 
to tell you; and if I sent you a poem
would it confuse you further?

No comments:

Post a Comment