“Delicate Things”

A poem in conversation with the author’s inner dialogue whilst on a road trip.

By Anonymous 

I’ve been trying to get better

at being quiet

We talked for like six hours,

and listening more

letting someone else break the silence

It felt like ten minutes, I swear–

I am tired of being

the one that breaks delicate things

The poor guy, only you

can’t help it that I

could have six hours worth of things to say. 

find myself asking the middle name of 

most people I meet

He must have wanted some peace.

Some guy will love you so much someday, he will

I live in egg cartons now 

and I’m getting pale

but, by the end of the week

he’ll need a break, 

and I’m breaking down

and I’ll take him out 

for a beer.

feels like my fifth time through the sieve

I promise he was talking too–

Calm down,

and I’m nodding along

you know it’s what we love 

about you.