5.29.21

​

it's been two months since you called on me, dear.

What's wrong, are you busy?

If it was up to me, we'd speak once a week.

That'd be great for my ego.

When I must call you first, I feel disillusioned.

 I might be less busy but aren't we stressed equal. 

 

When you call me out of nowhere

I feel my gums bleed.

Like I'm not used to the care.

Haven't flossed in weeks.

So nice you found time for lil ol me

who chokes down distate for how you moved on.

​

Who you love on. How that love's not for me.

At least not for right now. 

I'm meant to lay in my coffin and study the sound

goes shoobeedoodap 

half loverboy half bubblegum rap.

​

I feel peculiar attraction to 

that which I want to cry for.

So the next time you call

I'll be delighted as ever.

I'll turn down the music

and pour some hot tea.

That's really just hot water

and blossom honey.