Tired of writing.

Why do you persist
in this
line of questioning and attention.
There’s nothing for you here.

Small talk is not a skill,
neither is undressing
yet you do it so well.

I am here for my own self worth
not for you
or to move with you in circles.

Nor am I pushing your hair back
so as to land the smallest of indignities upon myself,
to kiss your lips.
Instead to see your face,
bland and pasty as it is,
and to lose it in the furrows and creases
of my mind.


3 thoughts on “Tired of writing.

  1. I clicked on this title in my rss reader half expecting to read one of those dreaded notices that one of my favorite writers was about to shutter the store and retire. Thankfully, I found was a pretty good poem instead – whew!

    And it is a good one.

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