I choose my words carefully
Conjugation on my lips
Spilling over into sound
A perfect preservation
Of multi-syllabic language
Summoned from sheer memory
So I can tell you to leave
To go, to consciously decide
To walk away without pride
But I can’t just say it
This well-rehearsed wit
Refusing to dissemble
Betraying my tender soul
As the pretender it is
Wishing for a diction
That persuades as it eases
That uncomplicates things
Like the space between whispers
A fractional dissonance
That dissipates as it expands
Forcing me to breathe it out
To watch it fog up this space
Between us before crystallizing
Into this verbal repertoire
This parlance that means the same
Because the more we go around
The more we do this dance
The worse my fractured psyche
So my words just come out wrong
I choke on them like air
While you sit there unaware
Waiting for the space to close
But it never does.
