you’re allowed so many hours
to lie on the floor of your office

in tears
per week
if you keep
the door closed

so many days off
per year
to fake sick and to
cry for the failures

we’ll pretend you
don’t have

other days

other days
you may vanish
into the hot afternoon

we won’t ask
where you went

we are nervous
to open your door

Filed under: poems Tagged: alienation, distance, divorce, isolation, life in general, perceptions, poem, poetry