i see a woman sitting next to me
go over and over again reading
the chat messages between her and her
hot and cold lover
'do you even read me?' she asks
'i do miss you'
and every so often, like breadcrumbs
to a sparrow
he throws a little heart sign back
she's at a safe distance
to always be had,
i'm snooping over my shoulder,
at a sad romance
a theater of dishonesty
built from small cowardices
and then larger ones.
'it's 2019', we're all yelling at each other;
tokenizing small and large pieces of respect
that we forget to give
to our selves,
suffering indignities at the hands of
love, or desire, or to repeat
the indignities that we thought
we deserved.
i snoop shamelessly into this chat.
gazing in second-hand horror
a third person perspective
of my own self.
go over and over again reading
the chat messages between her and her
hot and cold lover
'do you even read me?' she asks
'i do miss you'
and every so often, like breadcrumbs
to a sparrow
he throws a little heart sign back
she's at a safe distance
to always be had,
i'm snooping over my shoulder,
at a sad romance
a theater of dishonesty
built from small cowardices
and then larger ones.
'it's 2019', we're all yelling at each other;
tokenizing small and large pieces of respect
that we forget to give
to our selves,
suffering indignities at the hands of
love, or desire, or to repeat
the indignities that we thought
we deserved.
i snoop shamelessly into this chat.
gazing in second-hand horror
a third person perspective
of my own self.