2600
by tns
Sometimes the poison makes me melt back into my seat,
A warm blanket of arms and hands, urging me to sleep.
I always remember how sad you sounded on the phone,
in the last few weeks we spoke.
I never invited you to the going-away,
Kind of how like I imagine the British don’t celebrate 4th of July.
I made one attempt to contact you while I was away,
in the form of an email (of course.)
The response was so empty hearted.
But I had to read it, I had to know where I stood.
Besides the 2,600 miles between us:
I had never felt so dislocated until reading your response.
It’s always kind of humorous to me when one reads or hears their ex say:
“I hope you are well.”