You ignore him for weeks.

One fine evening, bored,
you drop in a friendly comment
followed by a wink
on one of his poems
and hope things will be
back to usual again. That he would
run after you like a pet,
salivating to have one bite of your lips,
which you'd let him have just before parting
every time the two of you met before.

Except this time, he doesn't revert.
Except this time, you have become him,
restless, and he is you, indifferent.
You don't feel too happy now.
He doesn't seem too nice either.
Happy Indifference Day.

- Shambovine