To The Enemy of Small Talks

 

There’s cruelty in how we met,

A bittersweet fate I can’t forget.

You linger in my mind each day,

Yet I wonder if you feel the same way.

I hoped you’d stay, just a little more,

Not forever, but longer than before.

The scent of your perfume haunts my nights,

Your memory clings to fading lights.

Pictures of you, a could-have-been,

A fleeting dream, a life unseen.

I wrote you letters, unsent, unread,

Hoping to say the words unsaid.

You claimed I hid what weighed on me,

But when I spoke, you’d talk endlessly.

So I turned to pages to hide my pain,

Bottling emotions I couldn’t explain.

I bought you a book, but read it instead,

Its words reshaped the man I am today.

Irony lingered, for it made me see,

The very man you once wished I’d be.

I called you, but my timing was wrong,

I texted, but you demanded decorum all along.

“Manners,” you said, as if they were key,

While I wrote of you, for you, hoping you’d see.

In the chase, I lost the man I’d known,

Changing myself to make you my own.

But still, on hard days, I silently pray,

For a small talk with you to brighten my day.

Sincerely yours

To the enemy of small talks