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believing in love as a universal language
until I met you, finding ourselves
in a paradox of our own making
for we were inept at communication
the accent all wrong
I . . .
unable to see the words "I Love You"
through the lyrics of a song
you . . .
unable to hear the words "I Love You"
penned of emotions laid bare on paper
each failing to connect the dots
to read between the lines of longing and denial
trapped in a dance of mixed signals and flirtation
And so much lost in the over-cautiousness of youth, perhaps. I often think back on the opportunities I probably missed out on, because I never said how I felt when I should have.
ReplyDeleteI know exactly what you mean about missed opportunities. I definitely had a hard time saying how I felt and could only allude to it in writing.
DeleteThis is excellent, Kathryn!
ReplyDeleteLove this - my poem is about mixed signals too.....
ReplyDeleteOhhh the frustration of the inability to communicate your feelings to someone else who may feel similar but is on a different wavelength emotionally...the story of my early life. I was so awkward and its one of those "if I had it to do over again" things. This was spot on, compelling in its nature and exactly the type of thing I was looking for. Thanks for taking the challenge today, I really appreciate it.
ReplyDeleteThis was drawn from experiences in my late teens, early 20's. Thanks for the great comment and for the prompt.
DeleteOh that baggage we carry around.. so as not to understand, or misinterpret a signal, something said. I still do it, read to much or too little into things. Nicely done..
ReplyDeleteMissing each other even while aiming is very frustrating and I love the way you lay that out in this poem. Yet how wonderful when you understand each other's language--and worth waiting for.
ReplyDeleteThis really moved me, Kathryn!! So often one or the other fails to connect the dots.
ReplyDeleteThank you Mary, this prompt took me back to my early twenty's and the awkwardness and miscommunication that comes with being young.
DeleteOh, yes, those dots...this is frustrating! I think this is why I found this challenge hard. Well Done
ReplyDeleteit is a tragedy to be on different wavelengths and miscommunicate.
ReplyDelete. . . it can be so frustrating, but sometimes the miscommunication tells you something.
Deleteah...so close and yet...
ReplyDeletethe mark is missed...the words never said...never heard...
never plain enough...its the ones never said that scare me.
And, of course ... There are some loves never meant to be. I enjoyed this.
ReplyDelete. . . exactly. This was definitely one of them.
Delete"trapped in a dance of mixed signals and flirtation"
ReplyDeleteBingo! you nailed it there
Thanks Sam, this was a memory filled write.
DeleteShortly, Kathryn, you both have lost the head....Love your poem <3
ReplyDeletelove this piece. had a lovely peruse through your blog, your poetry is magical. it's so nice to see a writer is also an aspiring artist!
ReplyDeletestacy lynn mar
http://warningthestars.blogspot.com/
Beautiful words and photography ~ Sometimes we missed out on opportunities for we failed to say or hear them when we should have ~ Happy weekend Kathryn ~
ReplyDeleteHappy weekend to you too. Those missed opportunities . . . sometimes good, sometimes bad.
DeleteBeautiful.
ReplyDeleteMy weakness is communication, too.
first, a really cool image. I had to double take to see what it shows. second, the split and yearning between *you* and *I* is palpable ~
ReplyDeleteThanks Michael, spent some time playing around with an image for this.
DeleteThis happens a lot of times...Love the image...fits the words perfectily
ReplyDeleteThanks Susie :0)
Deleteoh that is tough... communication is not easy and it's done on many different levels and sometimes it's not easy to "hear" what the other really wants to say
ReplyDeleteYes, extremely emotional and moving. The difficulties of human communication - the ways we mis-hear and mis-judge those we love. Beautiful.
ReplyDeleteThanks Brenda, miscommunication seems something many of us can relate to.
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