Small Talk

I only feel real if I’m real to you

You only feel real if you’re real to me.

Empty conversations of fellow friends

Filled up screen, empty heads, lonely beds.

Is it worth it? Paint it red, yellow, blue

Morning routines – give me something new.

You don’t remember me, I don’t remember you

Let’s talk about memories far, far removed.

We apologize, but we’re not sorry

We eat, but we’re not starving.

We make small talk, but we don’t care –

About your job, your kids, your husband, your affair.

And we toast to you, an abstract mirage

And we toast to me, an illusion – a facade.

We dance like we’re being shot by an AK47

We fall face first into a slurpee from 7-11.

What a grand gesture this reunion is

With all our loved ones, family, and friends.

Talking about who we could have been

Not making eye contact until the end.

When we say goodbye and that we’ll keep in touch

We’ll say we miss them and they mean so much.

But this doesn’t mean a thing, this doesn’t mean shit

And we realize only one thing matters – just the tip.

 

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