It's this
head-fucky, post relationship
emotional fuckery
that's got me
gasping for new breath,
sick of the old taste.
Is platonicy the way to check this?
Fill the hole with something else?
I can tell you want,
but heavy sighs don't carry the same weight
they used to.
And I'm sick of searching for meaning
in the silence between
every last conversation
before you've had enough of me.
What does this mean?
Should I read into the lines
you're etching
into my perma-furrowed brow?
I don't know.
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