If You Don't Mean It

Save me the pleasure
and save me the smoke;
put down the mirror,
and save me the yoke,
not to be saddled
with promises swept,
dates and fine dining
modestly kept.

Give me no
compliments;
tell me no lies;
save us the hassle
of awkward good-byes.

Quick flip the page,
and click to the next,
hurry along
before we have wrecks.

Wrap up your thoughts
with the wave of your hand;
smile and walk past me,
and you'll understand

Nothing
is ever
the thought
that you had;
nothing
could ever
be more than half sad.

All of this floundering,
parsed words, and games
ends in black books
with crosses through names.