Scientists claimed it/
was a Wasatch Fault quake. I/
knew her leg missed me.

Do/
my texts confuse/
her,/
woo/
her,/
subdue/
her,/
goo/
her,/
renew/
her,/
or undo/
her?/

If I ask her,/
will she/
b/
my task master?/
Or will this be/
a romantic disaster?

If I want to/
woo/
and goo/
only you,/
but you/
won’t let my words through,/
though they are true,/
and meant only for you,/
to shake your shoe,/
what should I do?

The truth is, it is/
emotional suicide/
to say “I miss you”.

She once couldn’t sleep/
and texted me/
at 2 a.m./

But that was long ago,/
as romantic relationships go,/
and she felt differently then.

I am tired of my/
stomach twisting in knots when/
it shouldn’t matter.

I once had a brother in law
who constantly opened his jaw.
But he’d invite me to dinner,
so he was a winner!
(At least as far as I saw.)

My complaining is/
like a broken record. I/
think I should stop now.

There is so much good/
and beauty around, yet I/
complain about her.

This silence is heard/
oft. It should not surprise me,/
but it always does.