Spiraling, words do not always allow for the most effective form of communication
And when the tension can be spread out on the floor like old worn sheets
But instead lies bunched up and shoved in a corner of the sofa,
There is little to say.
Neither of them looks at it,
However, they are both acutely aware of each crease creating its
Slow permanence in the woven memories of a past relationship.
There is no failure,
No lasting disdain,
No hatred fueling the growth apart.
There is simply a separate interest in what is important.
One looks to the present and wishes that it be like the past.
The Other looks to the future and bids it nearer the present.
So sets in the silence of two people no longer aware of what to say to one another.
It’s as if a great expanse has wedged itself between the One and the Other,
And using sound would prove to be useless anyway;
So the both of them resorted to light to convey what they wanted.
It was a final grasp at what had once been simple.
The One hoping to get time back.
The Other realizing that sometimes light fades when you’re standing at such a