I gaze at you,
ceaselessly,
in anticipation of words,
but these vacuous conversations are only ones that seem to come.

These salutations and customs- are all too familiar,
a forewarning to hail this semblance,
a bellow to put on my armour of camaraderie,
a display of grandeur,
as I wallow in cursory nods.

all this while, I still await those words,
ones that promise to slit the soul,

for it keeps on cluttering with ghosts of past flaws,
a past I wish that never was.