The book
That sat on your nightstand for months.
With a chapter to go,
Past due
Is the means to an end
You chose
The sentence that trailed off
Into an all but empty stare
(Wait, I was listening)

I am 19
With ducks
That form more of a mob
Than a row
Far easier to blame the tide
Than the self

Adulthood is the branch that taps on my window
On a windy night
Shivers me awake..
I hear you two have tea
In tangled talks of a future
No longer including me