poor boy

our conflicting days
the beginning of the end
small gestures towards
to hold it together

you saw a sliver open
presenting an opportunity
to plant a seed to grow
mend this new rift

your face brought a smile
with a boquet of flowers
but i offered confusion
with a specific reasoning

my own insecurities
latched on a gesture
to scour it for an answer
for it’s existence

i gave you thanks
it seemed insincere
but i couldn’t understand
why you thought of me

you left to begin
as i began to leave
we shared a kiss
but i heard you say

“what a poor boy”


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