Nowadays I've taken a different approach to being friends with you
(Like you said we would be.)
When I miss you
Or want, perhaps, to share a thought or poem
With you,
I don't send any texts,
I don't go knock on your ominous door,
Or stand outside it, arm raised in indecision.
I don't type my conversations up
And pipe them through the internet,
No.
When I want to talk to you,
I sit and look at my bedroom wall
As if it were a face.
And whatever I'd have said to you
I say to that plain plaster wall.
And honestly,
It's much more rewarding that way.
I ask a pleading question and I am met
With utter silence,
Total stillness.
And how could I be offended?
It's a wall.
It cannot answer me.
And I'd much rather know that
Right off the bat
I won't be hearing back
From my bedroom wall.