Self-destructive
When it comes to any kind of love
That’s me and you
Sitting in silence
Filtering a thousand little reasons
Why this wouldn’t work
the banter, which we’re usually so good at, abandoned
with nothing left to say
I get up, slowly, and dust off the back of my jeans
you look up, shaken by the sudden movement
I feel like I’m watching you at the bottom of some abandoned well
pale and shrunken
as if your life blood’s run dry
All that needed to be done really was reach out
And make contact
Afraid of what lies ahead
And afraid to say what’s in our hearts
We turn away
The moment, we, each in our minds think will come, never does
Why complicate, an already complicated, not really sure what this is, relationship right?
Wrong!
Sashikala Premawardhane
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