Liquid silence flows between the cracks,
The awkward pauses and terse remarks ,
Of our cordial conversation.

My lips fumble as words  scratch at their soft corridor,
The taste of discomfort and failure is salty,
Yet reassuringly human- alive.

You didn't do anything wrong,
Your perfectly placed hesitations and irony
Fell stagnant in the bitter pool of my expectations.

You couldn't help the way things went,
Self sabatoge danced sweetly on my lips,
Fates sticky web couldn't hold back deliberation.

Being with you, in this room,
Is the epitome of wide open loniness-
The kind talked about in books and eulogies.

It's elusive presence envelops me
As sentences fumble out of my mouth like gravel:
Unclear and unintentional, too genuine to matter.

I'm not sure how much more I can handle,
How many perfectly sane stories I can to listen to
Without spilling off the brink of sanity.

It's not as bad as it seems out here,
There's something charming about being utterly alone,
Something unexplained and unattainable
In this wide open loneliness-