Passing in the hall

Muted conversations

Press heavily on my skin

I want to reach out

To touch you arm

But I hesitate

At the set of your shoulders

The firmness in your jaw

You’re still angry

But I’m tired

Tired of the explosions

The subtle accusations

Unspoken between us

The weight pressed down

On my chest

My eyes downcast

I dart a glace at your face

Stealthily, hungrily

Drinking you in

Then letting you go

Just a little more

So tired

--- M.S. Faour

April 3rd