Poem 11

Third

Longer and longer pauses

work into our conversations.

You used to be

the one to turn to

cheer up

reminisce with...

but since then who knows?

Have you left

or have I?

Arguments slither in

always about the same thing

what you did.

And I can't talk to you

not anymore

The weeks pass and I don't know you're gone

then a greeting...

and silence.

That third presence,

always there.

Growing rapidly,

feeding off of pain

mistrust...

disunity.

And yet we can't make it leave.