Today's prompt is to write a poem composed of questions, and maybe answers.
Pleasantries
How are you?
A simple question
loaded with landmines
and fault lines, potential
emotional confession.
Does anyone want
to know the truth?
Take time to hear the berth
of your being?
Care about it -
really?
Smile and lie.
One size fits all answer.
'Yes, fine.'
Brush it off. Hold in
grandiose sigh.
'And you?'
Bat it back, reciprocate.
Smother your answer
in an outpouring
of expected takes.
The same applies
for you.
A greeting, concealing,
instead of
genuine meaning.
'But how are you really?'
I ask with my eyes,
I've caught you short,
the only thing for it
is to surmise.
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