you talk about something that interests you
but what you are actually saying is,
“this is a part of me,
do you love this part of me?”
and the response is a blank stare
or a quiet correction
and you know
somewhere there was a failure,
somewhere you found a fault line,
and it is time to end the conversation
or present another test.
how many failures before the structure collapses?
or are the fissures beautiful,
an invitation to explore,
an opportunity for adventure?
“this is a part of me,
do you love this part of me?”
why do I care if you love me?
the constant need to connect and reconnect,
I could have been someone
if you had been here,
but let’s talk about something else.
And there is a distance between us.
and the distance gets greater with each word said
you in your silo,
and me in mine.
Language bombs primed,
fingers on the keys;
the red phone is always answered,
with words heard in a common tongue
The test only ends when the distance between us is immeasurable