greet mine with a "hey,"
a painful salutation like a sword to the throat.
His smile- non-existent at the moment-
our bodies entangle in a sandpaper hug,
skin ripped from our bodies covering them in blood.
His voice- flat and unmoved-
lacking conviction as it claims "good,"
which has turned to be just the accepted social response.
His hands- sweaty and shaking-
anxious and tapping the palms of our hands,
slipping away like grabbing eels in the sea, escaping.
His legs- bouncing and relentless-
matching his hand's fidgety nuances,
confused which one should lead the other towards the door.
His heart- normal and paced-
a humdrum melodic reminder repeating
like every annoying clock's swinging pendulum.
He holds me longer than usual-
An odd rush of pain burns through us-
He kisses me on the cheek- "Love ya."
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