Reeling

You eat your

Taylor ham, egg, and cheese.

Much easier to meet than my

hollowing heartbeat.

You take a left,

leaving the words hanging around in your head.

I create my own version,

fingers pressing into my palm.

This is where I go wrong.

This delay.

Convinced you would rather my heart live in agony

than really talk to me.

The diction I pick precise.

My own strong device

or illusion,

giving way to what is tightening.

Cannot trust my own instincts.

I am failing to say what I mean.

I know that you'll demean it.

Suspect you will supply the hollow of your tongue.

Looks like this conversation is done

before it had ever really begun.

Telling me what I want to hear

is not what I want to hear.

I would prefer a substantial piecemeal.

Apprehension met with dullness is a recipe for a silent fire.

There is no warning,

but you feel it

searing.

Must be easier to reckon with.

Much easier to deal with

than my hollowing heartbeat.