I hear words.
Words I hear.
Slipping from your tongue,
Vowels, mixed in a bowl of consonants.
A blend of ABC’s I have grown to know more than
A child practices it’s 1,2,3’s.
These vocal vibrations tremble into the depths of my own.
My personal song, a never-ending tone in my thoughts.
Why do these waves I have swam across so many times
Seem so foreign as they wash to the shore of my ears?
I hear them.
Like the melodic calling of the sea as one holds a seashell to their ear.
A string of letters birthing word after word.
A combination, uttered from any other mouth would be bound to gain comprehension.
And yet, it is your moving mouth I see,
Your perfect ability to combine meaning upon each sound you project.
A fixation of essence you spill upon each stock of vocabulary you share.
Yet my mind cannot bear to unite understanding with your lexis.
The stubbornness of my Self fails to unravel the flows flooding from your lips.
For they’d make perfect sense had they been
Expressed by any other existence in this universe
I hear words.
The reality of the meaning they carry
Cannot enter my imagination.
A distance deepening upon each statement.
Each production of unified letters, pushing our bodies further apart.
A repellant you spray with each twist of your tongue.
My own language you speak,
And yet my brain is too weak to apprehend.
The symbols you strike,
Knock out the wind of my pipe.
For what voice is left?
The final words of connection,
Drift us to another dimension.
Where I stand alone, still unable to crack
The code you once spoke.
If this poem had a voice, this is what it would sing…