Chit chat chit chat…
Maybe I’ve talked too much.
Maybe you’ve talked too little.
Maybe you don’t want to speak at all.
Sing. Louder. Higher.
I hate that cord.
Let’s redefine it.
“No, it was meant to be written this way.”
Look at me.
My eyes are red with your tears and anger that hide the
jealousy that doesn’t exist.
I imprison you with chains that are my hands and they clutch
tightly to your face.
Look at me.
I’m sorry.
“I’m sorry.”
Echo is a verbal exchange of a dance
that we know by heart.
We have spoken too much
but it is never enough.
I Love you.
“I Love you.”
Our
foreheads pressed against the other
but
I feel beyond the physical.
I was
sure, there and then,
I am your prisoner.
