Do You Want To Break Up? (2) 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.
I don't tell her,
she might hate me.
I'm tired of being hated.

Sometimes
in the middle of he night
I steal her lipstick,
draw lips on my neck,
and hit the streets
pretending that 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 that she doesn't love me anymore.
She wants out.
Tired of my cage
she thinks of someone else.

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