“I can see the package…”
I said in my dream
I was trying to make the conversation last
Words are like packages sometimes
We forget that they are only symbols
Mysterious and meticulously wrapped
But often filled with nothing
But the fear of opening up.
“I can see the package these days”
I didn’t know how else to say it
That I felt nothing in you was ever packaged
That you seemed to communicate beyond symbols
In ways I could never articulate
“I can see the package”
I said from inside a dream
I didn’t know I was having.
It was nighttime
And I was looking out of a window
At a dimly lit city street stretched out in the distance
Holding the conversation to my ear like a seashell
Not wanting it to end before saying
What could not be packaged.
Light from the street reflected off of the wet pavement
As if it had been raining earlier that day.
I could see you through the sound of your voice
And through the sound of your silence
I felt you grow further away
We were talking like it was okay.
I didn’t know I was dreaming.