The books go unread,
the drink half-empty.
The music up, all the way,
blaring ceaselessly as I stare
at the screen, still unsure
as to what I should say.
I’ve been out of touch, I admit,
and maybe that’s the problem,
or maybe it’s because
I can’t stop thinking about it.
Thinking about what you mean to me,
and what I can do to bring you back.
