There's a well, somewhere, of all the things
I haven't said
good or bad or indifferent
for every
one
there are hundreds of words dying, drowning . . .
I’ve forgotten how to talk, or maybe you’ve
Forgotten how to listen.
It’s not an easy thing to learn, and it is
A difficult skill to retain
Comprehension comes in
Fits
And
Starts
And misunderstandings abound;
Everything is a homonym
Except for the things that
I haven’t said.
3 comments:
You wrote it!
More later.
Yes, I wrote it! I don't particularly like it. It's way angsty.
More later was such a lie.
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