Do you love me?

I love you too.

At least . . . I . . .

think I do.

The “too” depends

on love for me.

That’s my problem

don’t you see?

No, you don’t.

You don’t respond -

the pause is silent;

silence long.

Your silence answers.

Thanks so much.

It seems that I

am not in touch.

I am unloved,

I have no friends,

and I’ll make sure

this torment ends.

.

What’s that? You say

you were detained?

It’s nice to hear

your voice again.

But it’s too late;

I’ve locked the door

and I won’t come out

anymore.