Don’t Talk Of Words

Met in a cafe,

looking out,

the waitress pouring 

two black americanos,

we sip them,

the silence seeming

to become more of

a comfort than a


You talk, I continue 

looking out,

looking out the window,

the vast amount of

land expanding with

each of your words;

the waitress lingering

over our table,

you calling her over,


two more americanos please. 

We sip

in silence,

a comforting silence,

a silence that burdens

those who cannot

see it shine. 

You say of a 

new novel your writing,

I dismiss the talk

of words 

with a plea

to use

the bathroom;

hurling down the long

corridor to an

open door,

one that somehow leads

me to the back alley,

I exit, taking a quick look

at the window, where

you continue to sit,

talking into the silence

that burdens you. 


One thought on “Don’t Talk Of Words

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