prose: ing.

could have just stopped
listening,
starting to utter
mumble
become
new tones and dialect
tension creates space
for all the words we will never say
ruminating
back flipping
salsa dancing
pull pounding
beat breaking
Im laughing
slapping together
by total accident
(thats what the words we will never say, do)

When I met you
sipping nationalities furrowing
steam between nose and lip
the feel of heat on interior, pas d' fumer
the crooked cocky took me on a journey
behind every exposed brick
cultivated yet uncreated
philosophical yet prying
personalities seemed opposite and reverse

could have just stopped listening
but,
I took your palm
to my heart to let you play the beat
moving me towards arenas and away from shadows
i wanted to perform you all across
stitch laughter of ours
on my eyelids and let it play
on repeat
wanted our beat to be one
but just from sunday nights to thursday mornings.

I probably made things to easy
manipulated time so that it stood while i was waiting on second
doses
your charm wore off before I was ready to be naked

should have stopped listening
before you began speaking
in tongues.