COLD TOES

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Sometimes I wonder
why can’t I like you
more
than those stinging questions you ask,
when you know that I lie
about every letter that leaves my filthy mouth,
yet
you ask me anyway.
Empty letterbox reminds me of a promise
to be
never in need,
never in love,
but you persist stepping on my naked toes
and I keep on reminding you
that
we are just two lovers,
stuck in a daylight nightmare.

Every day is a comfort of fake and I lower my eyes, when you ask me,
will I love you tomorrow.
Silence could never be as loud.

– Chatty Owl –