…something

i look into your face
there is no trace
of recognition
in your eyes

and i don’t know
what gets me worse,
that you don’t know me
or how cliche
that first stanza sounds

getting right down to
the meat of the matter

we are living our lives
full of parting shots
and one-offs
no conversations had,
words left dangling,
left wondering,
as if a complete exchange
would signify,
i don’t know…
something

glb /// “…something”

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