So you have turned me into a rock.
A quiet, still, hard, cold rock.

I’m burning to speak
And tell you how I really feel—
That I can’t stomach you.

But I know I board the plane in a few hours,
And for this, I find peace—
Enough peace to remain the rock.

From you, I have gained nothing but tolerance,
And the knowledge that you should never travel to meet someone you met online—
At least not without a backup plan.

I can’t fake a headache or the flu
and ask to be politely excused.
I so wish I could—grab my bag,
apologize sincerely,
and run for the door.

I would think it would be worth giving you my opinion—
just to appease me.

But in the same thought
an overpowering realization—
that even you are not worth that energy.
You might possibly even thrive on it—
Like a roach thrives on Raid
once the poison has lost its ability to throw the bug on it’s back , kicking.

So I instead will bite my tongue,
And do my best
to keep my eye rolling to a minimum…
when I’m in your peripheral…