lackluster

You speak very little, in short syllables

And I speak in detail, flowing, knowing I'm saying too much.

I know the way you go about in attraction.

Providing only a glimpse of yourself, the rest a mystery to keep.

You say you don't enjoy small talk

But what is there to enjoy when there is no dialogue at all?

Do you want me around only at your convenience?

When you're coming down from the energies of your day, 

to provide a short-lasting source of stimulation before you drift off to sleep?

I'm not having it any longer.

Even wanting you as a friend is difficult enough.

You can't give me the slightest time of day to respond.

Making sure I'm always the one at the end of a lackluster conversation.

Of course, started by you and never conclusive.

It's a set-up for disappointment and dullness.

03-2015