Self-destructive

When it comes to any kind of love

That’s me and you

Sitting in silence

Filtering a thousand little reasons

Why this wouldn’t work

the banter, which we’re usually so good at, abandoned

with nothing left to say

I get up, slowly, and dust off the back of my jeans

you look up, shaken by the sudden movement

I feel like I’m watching you at the bottom of some abandoned well

pale and shrunken

as if your life blood’s run dry

All that needed to be done really was reach out

And make contact

Afraid of what lies ahead

And afraid to say what’s in our hearts

We turn away

The moment, we, each in our minds think will come, never does

Why complicate, an already complicated, not really sure what this is, relationship right?

Wrong!

 

Sashikala Premawardhane

 

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