language became then
an extension of your inabilities
when it came to me

an offering
and a place to devolve

the resistance unworded in your voice tonight
translated to my ears like keening
a steel side to your sadness
like anger over a song you held close
but cannot remember

when I gave you the knife
compelled myself to give you a way out
that you could not speak yourself towards
you did well honey but in this
there's no such thing as a clean cut

ripped the vowels out of my lips
shattered this meaning
what was its meaning

I wrote once about Hamlet
used too many words
to make my point and lost it
which was the idea
I meant to get to the whole time

there is a word for it
but words mean many things
and rarely what we mean

you remind me of him
of verbose and verbatim
colour and striving
but still giving up

it comes to me
that maybe it was not
a lack of trying or loving
that maybe it was not me
you were trying for

but still your moods are unfounded
a stream instead of the stream bed
I am still in your head

which is a meaning
or a loss of it
and neither feels like springtime
with grass