Spam box

I cried for you today.
Sitting alone on a park bench
in London while you're in the States.
Emailed you every day,
Not once have you responded.

It's hard loving but not being a recipient.
My emails went to your spam box.
You didn't read or retrieve it.
There's no excuse or fix for that.

If I call you'll probably hang up.
I understand my fixation,
But not your behavior.
Still I miss you, but my pride's greater
And does not allow me to call either.



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