Inside the Parenthesis
With her, I feel I’m wearing the wrong mouth. With you — the sentences just keep opening more rooms. A door inside a door inside a what was I saying — inside of a parenthesis that never apologizes for the sound. Maybe I should stop and ask if you're still listening, but your eyes don't wander. I don’t need to validate if this is making sense, if sense is even what I mean. You catch every drop.
Dear friend. I'm wearing the wrong mouth. That is one of the most precise descriptions of being misunderstood I have ever read. Six words and it is complete. And then the contrast. With you, the sentences keep opening more rooms. The form doing the work of the meaning, the lines breaking and wandering and doubling back, a door inside a door inside a, and you let it trail off exactly the way a real thought does mid-flight with someone who already knows where you are going.
The parenthesis that never apologizes for the sound. That is what it feels like to be truly heard. Not managed, not redirected. Just caught. You catch every drop. Such a quiet ending for such an alive poem. MashaAllāh, my friend. This one is exceptional. 😊🥰❤️🫶🏻✨️🌹🔥