The lazy green eye blinks.
An eerie whisper in a dark room.
Goosebumps shudder along chilly arms
as pale light flashes through the gloom.
If I answer my other messages,
you’ll know I’ve seen yours too.
My text tone is impatient
I don’t know what I should do.
Rainbow grease marks streak across
as I try to sweep your words away
and still the green eye stares at mine,
goading me to see what you have to say.
The puzzle starts when you tap the glass.
A mass of riddles and words that mean
twice the things they appear to
when they pop up on the screen.
You use our mutual friends
to attack me from behind,
holding them as leverage
when I refuse to pick a side.
There’s no point telling you how I feel
because you wouldn’t understand.
There’s more to a relationship
then making strict demands.
Besides, every word I type out
will be scrutinised to the core,
because you aren’t above taking screenshots
in this brutal social war.
So, instead of dreading communication
with all my other friends.
I’m blocking your bloody number
I just want this shit to end.
And I know that you don’t even care.
So please do not pretend.
You sealed this fate for both of us
when you said: ‘choose or we aren’t friends.’
