60 and swerving -
pause it there.
Throw a five,
hold my hand,
pull my hair.
Twirl me around,
I might repel.
Don't scowl,
be gentle,
be smart.
It's not semantics,
it's a worn out adage -
something about cake.
Save me a slice,
I'll eat it up.

I thought the juice was worth the squeeze
but it had too much pulp to even swallow.
Throwing it my face, why?
Because you thought I could handle it?
Ah, I fooled you,
but you fooled me back.
Shame on us both.

I can already feel myself missing you after this,
this one manically distracted evening.
I could cry if I thought about it long enough.
Handing out pieces of myself like I'm going out of style -
I should have listened to Holden,
but I spilled my guts instead.
My stories don't ring true anymore like they used to,
I'd rather listen to yours.
Side by side in the trenches, the thick of it -
I'll show you mine if you show me yours,
but show me yours first
so I can show you how well I listen.
Can I have a chapter?
Can I have one more evening,
for two of a kind?

I am exhausted
with your
silences

The chattering muons
rain upon my
magnetosphere

this crushing
undetectable
force

of everything
failing
to fill




Copyright@2019 Dennis Willis

Wellness checks for the wicked
when left to our own devices.
Spread open for sabotage
from cracks in comprehension.
Serrated is as serrated does,
wish I could be smooth.

Positive or negative urgency,
it still goes up in flames.
Looking for a reaction,
attention,
all the same.
Testy testing
meant to fail.
Little sympathy,
plenty empty.