When she asks about me
tell her that I still care,
please tell her that I moved on
that I never meant to let her go.
But tell her I that I became a teacher
who finally learned
but, don’t tell her that I miss her
as those words are too much for me,
if she is happy now
that’s all I’ll ever need.
exhaling a pure cloud of white smoke
hiding the meaning behind her words
as I stand conflicted; entirely uncomforted
by her stuttered statement of “okay”
As I raise my eyes I hesitate,
old faults now visibly
tearing up her skin
I fear to speak for I
don’t want her to shatter
from my quivering voice.
I try to talk
to engage you, actively,
in a dance of words with me.
Twisting our tongues around
sounds, giving way to reason, or,
allowing our imaginations to escape
the boundaries of our minds
yet you stand, statuesque,
firm in your ignorant state of non-amused
bliss, free from my conversation,
my creativity and words,
Sometimes when you are talking I, I close my eyes and allow myself to drift away, float on the syllables of your words and be carried away by the harmonic tones of your voice if only for a minute while I, I feed my soul from the sweet, delicate sounds that resound off your lips echoing in my head making me no longer a fugitive to my woes, instead now free, my mind focused on nothing, relaxing to the warm embrace your everyday song, until it is my turn and I forget how to speak for fear that I, I will ruin your song and return to my reality.