An awkward silence hangs between us,
a pregnant silence which never precipitates.
Like storm clouds gathering
only to dissipate.
The conversation moves along haltingly
you shift, uneasy, in your chair.
You clear your throat; self-consciously
you pat your perfect hair.
I don’t know who you are
I who once knew you so well –
Now we are strangers,
and this bears all the strangeness
of a first date.
Did I love you as much as I thought?
“How is the meat, tough?”
Stare at my knife, at my fork;
at the dimple that forms when you laugh.
“Would you like to go for a walk?
Are you sure you are warm enough?”
Cringe at the torture of small talk
with someone you used to love.
I walk you to your bus
you shrug, like, ‘Here we are.’
Then there’s a tense little moment
when we’re not sure what to do;
so you say, ‘Bye,’
and then you hug me;
‘We should do this again, soon.’
I nod, and vow not to
if only for my heart’s sake.
And then you’re gone,
but your scent lingers
like the residue of heartbreak.
Heart break courtesy of Mr SofaPhilosopher alias Alvin, you might remember him from here.
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