conversations

three

"i haven't drank a single thing all day"

but that's the same lie you'd always say

you trigger thoughts in my mind, the past starts to replay

i cry for us, and i cry for our old ways

-

"i hate it when you cry", you express

"then why do you always make it happen?", i relent

i stare into your eyes, but you seem to be absent

you're just a shell of your old self, living in the present

-

you have no reply, you just exit the room

the tension between us still seems to loom

i hear you opening another bottle, and i'm full of gloom

you're just a little flower, who yet hasn't bloomed