Outside my window
Creeping across the ground
Covering the trees there’s a
early-morning blanket of
Fog
You hide behind a screen well
Grey bubble ellipses
Grey walls of apology
Behind your glass and LEDs you
tether together letters into words and
words into sentences
You craft paragraphs with grace
But in presence you’re phantom
Slightly more opaque than mist
Whispers and repetition
like you’re fingering a rosary
Ad infinitum
Apologies and reasons
But you can’t even turn your eyes toward me
You opt for the window instead.
Outside
the leaves
Turn
I tell you that it’s not this one instance that
makes me cold
It’s a
slow progression
Seeds planted
Plants blooming
Blooms wilting
And it’s every small instance
Every event I can’t point at that
shakes me like a leaf in Autumn