Absence makes the heart grow fonder,
folks always say, but sometimes,
something else happens,
a sort of "out of sight,
out of mind" thing.
And there's nothing poetic about it.
There aren't shards
or pieces of shrapnel
to pluck away, all obviously dangerous.
The glass glitters on the road,
but "glitters" isn't the word
just anyone would use,
just a special little asshole
who likes to waste your time
with detail, with fragments
of reality so perfect, you throw up
a little bit just thinking about them.
So, you wait. You wait for someone
to look you in the eyes
and really see what dances behind them,
but you wait
for a long damn time.
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I can relate :(
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