Mr. Africa Poetry Lounge!
empty space
I have become accustom
to the monotonous delivery of your tantrums
(oh, just an inherent condition of his)
I mutter under breath
as our various nerves vibrate
quarrels
over our coffee cups
to fill the empty space
that echoes
across empty plates
I carefully unwind
slow peels of an orange
to scent the still air
disabled by our bitterness, and
we can only sit
in this neutral territory
unable to relate
face-to-face
Written by Wordancer
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