Playing in the dirt

I grind infinite pebbles into dust between
My fingers and make dirt roads that end in
Mountains with my feet, we sit close, knees
Bent, words between us glued to the roof of
Our mouths

Conversation forsaken in favour of watching
Grass blades before us dance to the twilight winds
Perhaps our speech is lost amongst them
On this what would ordinarily have been another
Summers night

You are leaving, the line ‘it isn’t you, it’s me’
Stumbled from your lips only moments ago, yet
It seems a lifetime, for my heart pounds as from
From a marathon, than a casual stroll around
The park

Yet here we sit in silence, not knowing should
We hug, have that final kiss, part as friends
Wishing ‘we’ had worked a little harder, thinking
That we did and words seem superfluous, as does the
Thought of friendship

The warm winds increase separating the grass
The pebbles between my fingers continue to fall
Neither are seemingly as one anymore
As if unglued, but then again that’s how
They always were



Copyright JMTacken 31.8.2014

29 thoughts on “Playing in the dirt

  1. ‘it isn’t you, it’s me’ is such a bullshit excuse…
    its not an explanation…and it leaves you wondering…
    break ups suck…at least have the guts to be honest….


  2. Oh, the dust that fills up one’s mouth, when you get those words told to you. It seems like you are suddenly dry and arid, wishing to be able to respond. The pain you showed in this, must be a far memory, or something in a dream, it is just so well written, I felt it was Real! So glad you still have your Mr. S (who does not sing!) who took you to see the musical, “Jersey Boys,” and other adventures, too. I like to ‘picture you’ happy, Jen! Smiles, Robin

    • How kind you are, part memory, part watching movies, part in my head. I am glad you thought it realistic though, this makes me happy 🙂 yes still have my non singing Mr. S and picture me happy, as I am smiling as I write, your happiness is infectious. Hugs x

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