don’t say you missed me when
every other day of the year
you swim in a pool of your own apathy
(while I drown in it)
and my bitterness rises to the top
floating in a foggy black cloud
as you dive in, trying to break through
and circle the currents until
you reach a depth where
I sit, criss-cross applesauce,
setting up my tea party just like
my first grade swim lessons,
holding my breath while simultaneously
showing you the talents
that you will never discover
because you never took the time
to dive deep, deep, deep enough.