The Paradox of the Sulk

We are too close for comfort
and it makes us wriggle and squirm
like worms in a hole.
And all this time I just need
you to tell me your mind for
as close as we are, I cannot see
it through your hair and your
skin, and your voice gives it away,
and it’s in
these moments that I feel
held at arm’s length with
one hand, but these speeches
we’ve just thrown at each
other crash clumsily together,
and I know mine sounds like an
budget catering tray,
bendy and tinny and
insincere, but it is sincere.
I just don’t know
how to harden up
but it’s hard enough when now
it’s 5 o’clock and
we’re on either side
of the glass
and neither of us
is looking up.


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