Next To You

Expected to speak over your silence–

we sit.

Staring at a blank space on the wall–

I wait.

You shift slowly away from me,

then stretch.

Unable to handle the quiet,

I breathe

ready to speak– unable to listen,

you swear.

I stop my thought process,

and leave.

Only then do you call out for me.

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This entry was posted in Poetry.

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