My Voice

I script out the most cliche

'get stuck in an elevator' narrative

my creative juices stalling

like a campfire dying by sudden ice water bucket challenge

gales of smoke releasing long after the flames

have fled

prior to resting for good

+++

I see you standing there

as the doors refuse to budge

a familiar look of guilt passing through

your features before disappearing into

a confident superficial smile

the one that doesn't reach the eyes

you crack a joke

hoping to pass the time in

small talk

anything but real

or authentic conversation

+++

I see you shift uncomfortably

as if I'm the one revealing the truth

of your inadequacies

a light penetrating your

'everything is ok' facade

you swallow then stutter

a momentary lapse in confidence

a flicker of your inner turmoil

before control sets in again

+++

I can see you thinking

through all the possible

permutations of 'he said she said'

compiling your list of excuses

or words to placate

analyzing all the possible paths

down the maze of choices

your own personal purgatory

wondering if I would play along

+++

I can see you leaning back

as if you're hoping the physical

distance will be enough to

not disturb the emotional barrier you

so carefully crafted between us long ago

but the truth is

though I have many things to speak of

I have nothing left to say to you