Sunday, January 17, 2016

Conversations

Conversations
Quiet, muddled, befuddled
Never reaching a conclusion
Endless, meandering, circumambulating
Tiresome in their childish repetitions.
Conversations
Are never clear
They never come to me
Like they do in my dreams
Lucid, transparent
With you before me
Gathering my words in your arms
Slowly, letter by letter
A game of scrabble only we can play
A puzzle formed block by block
Till I finally find the right words to say
They never come to me
Like they do in my dreams.
Clear, precise and charming
Completely disarming
With you on the other side.
It never happens that way.
It never will.

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