i wanted to say something to you,
which was ‘let’s talk some time —
about anything, or nothing”
but i realized that wouldn’t work
because all the witty things
i’d planned in advance
start to unravel when it’s
time for saying them
and i am left limp,
muttering inanities
under my breath.
why is the presence
of your intellect the
seeming death of mine?
we have such pretty
conversations in my mind,
but that’s only one letter
removed from petty and
the things i imagine i say
are more aptly described
that way. just look at me —
when i write i say too much;
when i talk i never say
anything at all.
This sounds so much like me! I imagine the best conversations with that person where I say all the right things. But it ends ironically. I, the meticulous planner, end up standing there simply listening to them speak, forgetting all I had planned to say. *sigh* But about the actual poem, well done! You were spot-on. Keep it up! : )