prose writing

She speaks to me

I can always see what’s hidden in plain view

Intentionally unfocused in the background

The clock, that time

True essence of your camera’s lens

I can see your candles scent by the label peeking out from the side of your screen

The color you paint your nails

The chain that drapes around your wrist

My favorite T-shirt balled up on the floor, and I cant forget that belt

The one that coincidentally casually hangs on your doorknob

Maybe its that book on your shelf, the binding I can read, from here….

Hundreds of miles away

Speaking in Morse code

Tell me, does she know you speak to me?

Through imagery

Through the obscure message in objects

Written all over your body

Through posted poetry

The song that plays in the background on your video, the things you heart and like

My old sunglasses on your dash

The color of the lighter next to your cigarette pack, that brand I use to smoke

You know me well enough to know I pay attention to the subliminal clues

The details

In stillness

In telepathy

In not speaking at all

She speaks to me.

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