She spoke
and I gave my best reply,
focused more on the what-now than the why

but the last thing I predicted was your absence
from the conclusion you fell on
your knees, bruised and scraped
your knuckles on the ground

What would God think of me now?
just another follower to batten down,
another comma to turn around

You want to think you understand me
, but you don’t, you don’t, you don’t
take off your shoes when you come in the house

I was talking to your roommate
who said you’re not acting like yourself,
and now I know I never knew you

; but still, I wanted to,
so I wish I never opened my mouth
because whenever I do
terrible truths come out
impossible hopes can sprout
and bloom into delible dreams,
acidic and sweet like mangosteens

You like to think you don’t like me,
and you don’t,
you don’t, you don’t
answer my texts until you need something

but I’m happy here without you
counting magnolias as they fall

and when I think about you
I don’t think about you at all