i think what i want to ask is how are you
but what i say is something else entirely
like we have been trying for years now
speaking to each other in different languages
even as we write in english
giving answers to questions none of us asked
disjointed conversations with each other's shadows
the echoing unsaid syllables in the space between

somehow,
from this we manage semblances of communication
maybe in one-hundred words one resonates in your ear
(for me it is thank you, for you is it yellow?)
we used to exchange thousands on the regular
so many my computer drowns the way i used to
the way i still do whenever i find myself trapped in
their endless mazes, unable to compute to search
and find the meanings illuminated in the cold blue light

i live far away now Henry
all the things i can't say
i wonder at the word can't
shouldn't? don't want to?
i think this is my longest exercise in self-reflection
looking in mirrors and finding myself lost
looking in mirrors in my own eyes

the unwritten letters in the space between
i will forgive almost anything you say
if you write it seriously, if you say it with respect

up neon lights sprinting, you say we are running
and i want to ask: are we running to something or away?