fingers hover over keys and
i am, as usual, lost for words.
i cannot write about thing things
that really matter.

but i think to myself
' i need healing,
and peace
and quiet '

but you will no give me any
even if you do not know it.

i read somewhere
' if you want to let go of someone
do these things' it said

write a list of the things you dislike about them

so here it is:

you're always late even when you're early.
in fact
i don't think i've ever seen you be early
what the hell do you do?
how can you consistently be late to
everything the same way i'm always early?

that's effort to be that unpunctual.

you never finish sentences
because you're bored or you forget
what you were saying

you refuse to remember to do something
out of laziness and carelessness
and you said
' my parents tried '
not hard enough.

you keep thought hidden and
you lie out of convenience.
saying you like it when people
aren't politically correct.

i think you're just too scared
to say some things yourself.

scared?
lazy?
or just weak?

i'm not sure. but i don't like it.

you only help me when i'm sinking
and you don't like the way it looks.

you only seek me out when you
haven't seen me in too long
and you stumble on your words.

you never mentioned her in months
until you did and never again.

you never say her name.
why don't you ever say her name?
if it hadn't come up, would you have ever said
' i have a girlfriend'

i know how your voice sounds
when you speak about your sister
and your mother
and your father.

i know you eat together as a family
and your sister hasn't been visiting that often.
i could see the resentment on your face
when you told me about it.

you don't like sweets or chocolate
you always order coffee the same as mine
you thought it was strange that i didn't like bread
but you didn't seem to mind.

you said
' she's going to sit there '
and
' you looked worried, so i followed '
and
' we can talk about this at lunch '
and backtracked when i asked
how were we going to talk at lunch?
you had it twice in the common area
and left.

you don't like to be touched or touch
but you touch my arm and i've touched you
you didn't flinch.

you follow me around the room and
whenever i show up to talk to him
somehow you always end up by his desk

i walk in and you get up, walk around the room
either avoiding me or running from me

checking to see if i'm coming out to smoke
(yes i saw)

i dislike that you're doing this.
i dislike that i don't mind it at all.