Every moment a growing distance
Whether it be the speed of the plane
Or your apathy.
Your silence still makes the sound
Of a belt being unfurled from your waist
and I cower with trepidation.
Treat me the way you mean to -
Be as cruel as you intend
Clearly and with no distractions.
Fuck me and then never talk to me
Until you’re hungry,
Because I can decipher by now
The language of your disinterest.
Stop trying to dress it up -
In “how are you” and
Dispassionate kisses
As shallow as 2% milk.
I’m tired of finding reasons
For you to grip me a little tighter
And say my name more often
And hold me in the dark
And look my way in a crowded room.
I wish you would do anything,
like you really meant it,
whether or not it would hurt.