Icy Politeness

I knocked and then knocked again.
Hyper-alert, you gingerly opened the door
Ushering me in with your lip-glossed smile.

Quite mysteriously and without invitation,
An invisible cloak wrapped around me,
Woven with the threads of bitter isolation
And embroidered with icy, white coldness.

We glided across your marble tiled hallway,
Arrived in your immaculate, polished kitchen.
A facade of minimalist, stylish perfection.

Every single latest gadget stood bolt upright,
Frigidly and patiently waiting to welcome me.
Ivory glacial surfaces shimmered brightly,
Disconcerting me with their frosty glares.

We drank coffee from delicate china mugs,
Exchanging pleasant, social irrelevancies.
And between the polite sips, we swallowed
Down the chit-chat, nodding appropriately.
Such an unsatisfying, surface conversation,
Masking an unspoken vacuum of emptiness.

Time dragged on – minutes drowsily passed.
Then, with refined composure, you stood up.
Our meeting had finally and abruptly closed.

Respectably remote, we said our goodbyes.
Your security door clicked shut behind me.
Stung by a sharp and poignant, loneliness,
I shivered – thankful to be heading home.