The empty space between two people
where everything gets lost
venom floats in the supercharged atmosphere
of an argument ready to ignite
Words unspoken float in between rooms
fill up vacant seats in cars and restaurants
become the hollow pillow of regret next to you
in the bed while through the open window
lost letters drift falling in fat lazy flakes
that soak in when they melt
I had a thought
for a moment it was right there
on the tip of my tongue but we vacillated
through our languages and it was caught
by a mistimed breath carried away through
a crack in the floor
a well-placed stitch can save nine
but what we once whispered is now gone
lost in the translation
On life and relationships and arguments I wish I hadn’t had. . . . .
The Poetry Patio 