This is crying silently in the dark,
so as not to wake you
This is an angry reflection screaming
at the silent madman adjacent the mirror
This is conversation cut short
because I can't always manage to care
This is me, you smiling hollow
This is me

This is taking the long way home,
and drinking away my free time
This is sleeping on the couch
because I cannot share your bed
This is wondering what ties me
to your cold-shoulder for a side
This is me, you happy wretch
This is me

This is sex, not lifting a finger;
feeling anything but natural
This is callous sickness saying,
"Just be glad there aren't kids involved."
This is boredom at the sight of you;
wasting away as I wait for adventure
This is me, you selfish imitation
This is me

This is staying out too late,
and remaining alone too long
This is a lie which makes no sense,
that you don't even think to question
This is nothing left to talk about
All the passion, now bittersweet
This is me, you cold kindness
This is me

But I don't want this... to be me
So please don't let this... be us

Poetry from Majestria by Shane Windham
E-book and paperback now on Amazon.com

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