The words are few and far
Dance our dance
Not communicating to talk to one another
Over analyzing a like, a love, a care
Pretending to Ignore, what remains unsaid
Interrupted with flashes of honesty, and the ghosts of days past
The lockdown pause; an excuse, or just the world
The loss of traveled moments and FaceTime
As the compartmentalization of lives solidifies
And drifting ships make sail
There is hope in memory, and the delusion of future facts
What is deleted holds no power
What are the games that are played on the other side?
Has discovery led to understanding?
Or does fear lead to presence?
The reality of acceptance is unacceptable
If there is only memory, what need for souvenirs.
Time precedes as always
Wounds heal or fester depending on reading or dreaming
The intangible in-between makes for an uncomfortable companion
Dreaming between the lines