I can recall every single syllable
you’ve ever chained together
and told me
but it’s a blessing and a curse
because you whisper what should be yelled
and you can’t help but cringe every time
I say something I didn’t mean to
with my hand over my mouth a millisecond later
trying to shove my words back down my throat
because they tasted bitter coming out
and you’d come back with a nail
through my chest only because its your
way of defending yourself
but then with one touch it gets better
because silent streams of communication
are always an escape for people like us
people who know each other
inside and out
metaphorically and literally
and could pin point every little
button on one another
that could be pushed at will
you always knew how to make me scream
(pun intended)
and then like a broken record player
legs would tangle
like thrown clothes on the floor
and we’d forget about everything
that had just gone wrong
and we’d remember
all the times we had made each other laugh
heads hitting the sides of bed boards,
talking to things that can’t talk back
but when i’m not close
and our only means of communication
involve everything you hate about me
like eyes glassy glued to a screen
and we wonder why we’ve never learned
how to use our words.
–to a past love
