“I’m sorry, but,” four times
is my limit
An hour of apoplectic “I feel,”
you ‘think’
You go home, I go out
One moment of weakness, I call
You don’t pick up
So.
I Walk around
Meticulous, I go
where only the trees obscure the light.
in the Shadow, I realize
the permanence of my despair
Let’s eat, a plate for each
Me and my beloved, Sadness
Pita should do.