ALL THE MORE
by Cecilia Wynn
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Alone? Never mind.
I'll talk to the space.
Imagining a face.
Gone again? Fine.
Still talking to space.
Trying to save grace.
You could ingratiate
Me to appreciate
Your tale that you've told
Over a hundredfold.
Regardless I'll listen
Always with frisson.
Don't get me all wrong.
That I might mean ill,
I just lack the skill,
To talk or prolong
With ease a sentence,
Hostage to recompense.
What more do you want?
A tighter friendship?
More frequent skinship?
I'll turn a savant,
Learning to read you
In search of a cue.
If you start to show
That you want any more
In depth our rapport,
I'll be first to know
And make all the more
In ardor, amor.❧
*Picture not by me