The next time you want to tell me
everything about you,
All those perfectly articulated facts about yourself,
the ones you put on questionnaires that only your stalker will read to enhance a chance at you,
those facts even you forget about yourself, when you say I wish I had someone to bring me flowers,
while the flowers I brought you are dying on the table,
those tidbits of information you’re just dying to share,
like dirty secrets only much less fun,
One day I’ll write a memoir you say,
but when we talk I can only see your face in the reflection of your demanding phone,
So smart because it knows you best, yes?
Well all those things about yourself you want the world to recognize,
that empty information that defines you,
the stories you believe write the fairy tale of your life,
the past that created you, the future you need to fulfill you,
those things that you can’t wait to tell me…
I want you to wait.
Forever.