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this was it.

i could not write more than just this line.
now, beyond it.  i wrote and went back.
again, and once more, and over.  again.

after this, i will stop. for a short while.
to walk, outside. outside of you.

it was over.

i was speaking not of me but of you.
mine had just begun.
is this the same or is it different?

yes, i may have lied just a little bit.
but was i not far from the truth
be that as it may.
it sounds a bit distorted
too fast and coherent to be anything but.

i tried.
each syllable i whisperedly enunciated.
conversation?  no.  we're through.

here.

when words by themselves are.
the way that we are this season
speaking  singing

 
 
Other Writings
then
from here you can see
this was it
desire always that
the sound is
careful now
familiar with it
girl's sunshine
now
once again it