it's a favourite pastime
of mine

head down
concentrating

mining for fools gold
listening to whispers
of stories untold

just waiting

to have enough
fluff
to weave a tapestry

the story of you
and me, and her, and him
and the children

no one remembers the children

the background music
is irritating
the slack jaw stare
from you
is grating

but I chose to continue
to pick belly lint
because nothing is worth
lifting my head
not words, not actions
not even your guilty flinch