Poem again

I feel like screaming
Stupid screams
Powerless in every way that matters,
Or that’s how it feels anyway.
I ignite the contents of a bowl and think,
“Everything, even this, gets harder soon.”
I feel like crying
But I have to talk to my boss any minute now
So I will be convivial as usual
I like my boss and he likes me, and everything is normal and everything is fine
Except the howling whirlwind at the threshold preparing to rend this shitty fabric to bits
And you, kindly but matter-of-factly, telling me you didn’t feel a “strong connection” and wishing me well
I presume this strength is a relative measure, weighing your infectious smile in my presence, the poems you read me as I stroked your hair, against whatever excitement transpired last night,
One of the nights you “had plans” but didn’t specify, as we worked out that we’d see each other Thursday of next week,
And probably Tuesday too.
You once asked me if studying psychology enabled me to “read people”
In a sense it did
But the ink is already dry
And while an awareness of the primacy/recency effects
And the crude mechanisms of attraction
(Had you only not been called in to work that night!)
Might help you understand why I’m here, feeling like screaming
It wouldn’t change a damn thing.


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