*do You Want To Break Up? (2.01) Poem by A Waltz For Zizi

I find her in silence
close to the window
on the edge of a chair,
with her stare galloping
across the sky.
She isn't like before.
She has changed.
She gets bored of kissing me,
and laughs when I want more.

In the morning
before I wake up,
I make sure to make love
to her, in my dreams.
She has no idea that
I do this and I don't
tell her, she might hate me.
I'm tired of being hated.

Sometimes
in the middle of the night
I steal her lipstick,
draw lips on my neck,
and hit the streets
pretending I do not notice
the stares, to feel again
how it's like to be envied.

But
I open my eyes and find her
making friends with the birds
and on her, more layers of clothes
than yesterday, more than any woman
should wear. She hides.
I think she doesn't love me
anymore. I think she wants out.
She thinks of someone else's cage.

Before I ask, she says yes.
I don't argue. She always knew
the question.