deepundergroundpoetry.com

Day on.

I worried that we were two too different people
- that's a fact
between me on the ground floor eating tinned spag bol still in my work shoes while cats demand attention I don't want to give,
what with writing and the saucepan on my lap
and you
hiding in the upstairs bathroom,
playing games on your phone, feeling poorly from lunch, hating your job, tired of things going wrong in the world of adulthood
there is a flatline
that hovers, checking the balance of things.

I can never read the dial.

Written by ImperfectedStone (The Gardener)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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