Awkward

I am not afraid of awkwardness.
Very often, awkwardness makes me alert, piques my interest, 
perks me up for explanation.
Yet I hate our awkward conversation that day.
"They don't look alike."
"Well, if you have met those in between them, 
you'll understand they belong to one family."
"I have another question for you ..." I said in despair.
No, I didn't have another question for you.
I didn't know what to say to you 
and was forced to make conversations. 
Why didn't I just admit that I'm a sloth girl, 
lazy, indolent, good for nothing? 
Just be myself and stop trying so hard to be polite, 
only to make myself more and more desperate 
in the impossibility of the social task.
You act differently in my dream, 
still with your usual quick movement,
but full of attention for me,
hanging on every word I say.
You still talk as if you are answering questions,
you still look as if you have other things on your mind,
I still search for the topic that can draw you out 
but can't find it,
it's still a halting conversation, 
but somehow you have that dreamy intention of 
trying to please me,
but clueless on how to do it.
Even your cluelessness is unforgettable.