(I don't know... blah. I wish I could take a class where the professor doesn't just try to turn you into him or herself, what's with that?)
Xeriscaping the Emotional Gardens
I smile at your frowzy hair, but you
look at me – gelid [judging?]
My heart beats faster as I wonder
what is my malfeasance?
Your laconic chatter pointedly leaves me
out of the conversation
and I ponder if I can redress our dissevered relation.
Your palaver morphing into Poe’s bells –
the tintinnabulation of the … No
more somber than that [knell]
My mental arguments lack cogency [otiose],
so I compose a valediction, embracing
a hubris that I do not have.
So enervated by self-doubts [inculcate my own deprecation]
I cannot utter a single word –
how ardently I crave our quondam amicability.
I look away – yield to your piercing gaze.