blot

Many conversations without a spoken word
Misunderstanding sits cross-legged between us,
Immovable without desire
The ink well has long since dried,
The pen has cut out my tongue
While the letter I, and the letter you, lay before our eyes
Such words have become the undoing
And while remaining motionless
Distance is gained
And we become lost
Together
Alone







-j.g.smith (08/19/08)