What thoughts do fly from your head to mine?
This sudden nonchalance, although refreshing
to some part of my soul,
Breaks more than Creates,
And I can’t help but be discouraged
With your hair pulled back you regard me for a moment
And I wonder if you know I am nothing
beneath the surface.
Has my initial impression
finally
disappointed you?
Or do you take these kinds of detours often?
Someday, yes, I will grow tired
of you and your particular ways.
Your button-down shirts will appear outdated and expressionless
And I’ll hate to hear of anyone new
We will be in separate parts of the room
And you will act as you did before…
But this time scorning me behind my back--
I’ll always expect that even if you said I’m beautiful
But for now, I think in awkward silence
of your bare feet,
guitar strings, apathy around your wrist,
and your loveable disposition listening
to old bluegrass
Is this the end of your stream of thought that once flowed
my way?
Then make a rubbing
of your last nonchalant nod
and I’ll be ever as I was:
at your disposal…