I see you.
I see you, and I don't know if you see me -
or if you even think about me.
I see you.
Sitting there.
Saying nothing.
And on the one hand-
I'm fine.
On the one hand I'm ready to walk away
say it is what it is
leave your decisions up to you
and go on without you.
But the other hand is heavy
and it presses against the spaces between my ribs.
It clutches and grips
twists and pinches my skin.
And it hurts
to see you
sitting there
saying nothing.
