Redundant

Your calls have become redundant now.

No hope of condensing. Lost steam.

We start with the usual, " Have you taken your meal?"

"Yes," you answer as if a reflex, then ask me the same.

I am still optimistic as I launch my day.

I bicker excitedly for some more time.

I know you're a dime,

Less interested. You listen out of politeness. 

You drift, inch by inch, 

Away from my anecdote; preoccupied with something from your world.

I do not ask. I daren't trespass. I don't want to. 

After all this time; you've kept me out. 

Your walls are too high, mister.

I am indifferent; after all this time.

You ask something trivial, irrelevant.

My flow is broken; I answer in the affirmative.

I wish there were more tales at our disposal.

Silence: I am in no hurry to break it.

You're perfectly at ease, some topic brews in my mind.

You remind me you love me,

Out of habit, I do not doubt,I spill out the same three words.

No, four. I love you too.

You yawn audibly.

Or is it some cheery siren I was desperately

Hoping for; an excuse I was betting upon.

On another day, I'd spurn myself for never trying.

"You're sleepy" I confront.

You say nothing and I press on:

"You've had a long day…Must rest"

We both know you've hardly left you apartment.

"Okay". You resign. Accustomed. Fine,

With the art we use every day, to get away.

My sigh is lost in transmission.

We hang up after blowing three good night kisses,

Customary and absolutely redundant. 

The writer is a student of North South University.