We feel like strangers,
Roaming in the night,
Landing kisses on the wall,
Narrowly missing each other
Like we’re playing
Pin The Tail On The Donkey.
We have terrible aim.
We stage a game of telephone,
Twirling the bright red
Pretend cord around our fingers,
Cutting circulation,
Filling in all the words
Lost along the way.
We easily find a disconnection.
We’re terrible at this game.
Ad lib romance of insecurities,
You to me, Me to you,
Lost in the translations
Of absent-minded doodles
Spread across the pages of an old
Was this where we went wrong?
We trace little love notes
Hidden between the ad listings of
Seeking Adventurer and Must Love Books.
Standards, values, beliefs, and emotions,
Shrunken to .5 font
Wedged in sight, out of mind.
Tiny little cracks within the pavement to
Break our backs – and our hearts.
Still, we wander knowingly in the dark.