The moment expectations become,
More important than a relationship...
One is led to believe,
Is shared with someone...
And a lack of feeling,
Verifies something is missing...
And has gone.
Those expectations,
Become less important to fulfill...
Than talking on the telephone,
With an obscene caller.
And far more satisfying,
Each time those obscenities are placed.
'I'm busy right now.
But...
Is it possible you can call back,
At eight thirty?
I'm sure my mate and I will not be speaking,
At that time.'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem