The test continues. I stare at my feet, Chipped aquamarine. It complements the space that is your eyes. The tarnished lack of light that is you. Because I never said.
Laborious minutes turn, Sympathetically smile at the inconvenience.
A fragmented lottery of names filters past. Each tag eager to become and consume me. They lose the tint that clutches, Like a mechanical image preventing sleep. I place my hands on my stomach, and cradle your unallowable self. Yours cries wait, expectantly, To tear through this now breathless room, Not irritable, but pathetically pitiful.