It has been interesting, all the twists and turns,

The miscarriage of all the words involved.

Speaking and yet not saying anything of substance,

So why am I feeling so lost?

Affected by the debris of your broken promises,

Of narratives we tell ourselves to keep from changing orders already put in place.

Expectations dropped as disappointments ensue and yet,

You are speaking but not saying anything monumental,

Speaking yet silent,

Laughter used to hide nerves, nerves cultivated by one sided comprehension.

What’s that about?

Speaking my truth only to have it misconstrued, broken up piece by piece,

Subsequently altered by our reality.

A miscarriage of desolate dreams,

Irreparable and yet continuous all at the same time.