We’ve always had rapport, you and I–
a tongue-in-cheek way of coming at something,
an understanding based on similar youths
in dissimilar settings. We seem to share so
many parallel congruities (but perhaps I project
inside of my own wishful thinking).
Romance is alive and well in that damaged heart of yours
filled with the angst of lost love from long ago
and the dream of some connection that you hope to find.
I, too, seek connection as I read between the lines.
Yet I am pragmatic; it’s doubtful that someone like you
would ever pen a word or two with someone like me in mind.
We create our stories using subtle vagaries,
meting out those tiny bits that we wish to share.
But somewhere in the margins
or deep within the fold,
perhaps another story’s waiting to be told?
I have often wondered of this image that you paint
–the broken man still searching for redemption–
someone always seeking/never finding what they need,
inked in words of vagueness and ambiguity.
Is this persona that you share just some fantasy?
Has it been a lie from its inception?
Leaving me to ponder of my own uncertainty
or if there's something more in our connection?
Another blank page lying here between us–
What shall we write?
© Ginny Brannan 2024
Just another tale filled with vague references, plot holes, unrequited feelings, and no happy ending.
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Thank you for reading my poetry and sharing your thoughts.