strife or stripe to provoke provocation to make you look again instilling need to re-read your own thots not mine i pose questions in form of prose does acceptance of my doubt come easier then acknowledgment of your own? regardless of degree of 'removable-ness" does your strife dwarf mine? or is it all six of one half dozen of another...

silence transcribed

you scribble your whispers

on the small of my back

i feel them

knowing the words that cannot travel from lip to ear

feeling the pulse

of your desire

transcribed

i will not ask for clarification

even if you stutter

or linger a bit to long between breaths

identification in discrepancies

of word

vs action

becoming second nature

as we speak more openly with less truth shared

pregnant words filled with intimate details

of other things

tiptoeing around self flagellation

admonishing aspirations with cute quips of others misgivings

donning high prescription reading glasses

to look down our noses

at those capable

of doing what we cannot

speak to a lover

yell in passionate rage

whisper sweet nothings

sharing more then stolen glances

more then late night embraces

more then coded transactions

ultimately more then i can allow

if my intentions

are to keep this tiny heart beating

if you keep writing, i will keep listening
if you do not push, i will not pull
if you keep from startling me, i will not flinch
if you do not ask, i will not expect
if you do not expect, i will not ask
and if you step over this line, we have drawn in the sand.

i will step with you,

but i cannot step first

tonite

transparent tales
speak volumes
of colored pasts

lose lips leak
secret agendas
confirmation comes
in the moments when both sun and moon are sleeping

thots that unravel
my teetering sanity
are only validated

as you claim throne
master of your own destiny
you know less
about the
master plan
then those you deem
sub servant

show me the same map once more
tell me again how your heading towards 'x'
take my hand, as you again look towards 'a'

convince me
as i try to convince you
that we have chosen this

not retreated, hesitant of further bullshit
that you did not succumb, exhausted from the fight
that you do not hold back, sick of flinching

but that yes
alone is how you chose to sleep
silently is how you enjoy your dinner
and the empty space on the couch lends you no discomfort