Write up

It’s unkind my dear
to keep me in despair
withholding your stare
Like a schandenfreudist player
You sadist boobear
Talk to me and tell me your reason
and doubts and treason
of unwritten law and trust you’re committing
by not showing me your thoughts as if we’re aflare

Am i right,
In thinking what i think
Am i right,
in supposing i have wronged you
Or your affections for me have suffered
The inevitability of truth and repulsion
that come from knowing someone up close

and yet I am hopeful my dear
that there is a someone inside that cantankerous leer
who still slyly looks at his phone and me for an entertaining stare
I don’t know, for this is your flair
In keeping in the nether regions of a clear
tone, Oh just put and end to this warfare
Of mind, of psychology, of thinking in fear
Torture me no more, yell a shartassistic blare
Of rejection, or not, but kill me not with this silencing flare.