the afterthought

am i supposed to

get used to

silence?

your presence 

only nighttime

when its convenient

when you're too tired

to talk about anything

sufficient.

anything real. 

are we real? really? in a realationship? 

relationship.

is this how it's supposed to feel?

you tell me it's going to change. 

it. or you? 

or when you say that, you're asking me to change? 

my expectations? 

but why is it, that no matter how much i concede,

how much i want to believe

that i can handle the little we have

the little you give me, 

why does it feel wrong? 

can two people really be this busy for each other?

or just one is too busy for the other?

i'd rather do as i've done before,

keep a foot out the door,

but the part of me that remembers your steady gaze, 

the words you spilled, the drives you made,

doesn't mind the silence.

doesn't mind the waiting. 

but someone once

taught me,

that it shouldn't feel like waiting

for things to change.

because my time is precious

and so is yours.

you tell me you are satisfied with 5 minutes of talking. 

"a glass half full," you said.  

i think not. 

i'm not looking for a glass half full.

im looking for one glass full

of satisfaction, depth, speed, care. 

it's not about how much time we spend, 

babe.

i don't want 

to feel as i do now -- unnatural, uncomfortable, left, unread -- 

like an afterthought. 

maybe i don't understand you.

maybe you don't understand me. 

but that's what it feels right now

that's what it appears to be.