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

 

(Fictional)

Copyright JMTacken 31.8.2014