What you Don’t Say,
means Everything.
Every time the phone
doesn’t ring,
I jump,
started by the silence.

What you Don’t Mean,
is the Cruelest.
The take-back slack
attitude afterwards,
after the pots are thrown,
the gravel sown on
the soil.

Hot Love’s supposed
to cure all this?
Moments being tender
to yourself,
thinking that it’s me?
You can’t see?

The Don’t Wants
are the real taunts.
The warm time,
make-up crime
is the Deadlys.

12/27/2005

Posted on 12/28/2005
Copyright © 2025 Timothy Somers