When was the last time you spoke to me.
Not merely the inane soothsaying of your voice
speaking how your day was, but really communicate
It seems yesterday was over a year away
When we talked together
like two strangers determined to know one another.
The secrets rooms within you revealed some notion of truth,
as though the space of your mind was for rent
and I was in the market for a place with a view
Now my key doesn’t fit. I am left homeless,
You were explicit in your notice of eviction
Am I no longer welcome?
Maybe it was always me.
They say communication is a two-way street
In order to form a connection, one must be able to reciprocate.
Is it to late? I came tell you I’m sorry
For all the words I didn’t say.
Except now you are not listening.
Echoed in the silence between us forms a void
Like the space of where you used to be.