Words in the Wind

She talks.
Though I'm not there to listen,
Not anymore,
Still she talks.

She always was a talker.

Talk about the future, at first.
About how we'd change,
How I'd change.
How she'd change me,
And all would be well.

Well.

She talked, but she never really heard
How some things don't want to change.
Some things can't change.
No matter how much I wanted her,
Wanted to change for her,
It's a leopard/spots kind of thing.

I'm me.
Can't be anyone else, sorry.
Sorry it's not good enough for her.
Never was, I guess.

She talked at first about work.
Her work, always;
My work, maybe.

She talked less and less about our future
More and more about hers.
Fewer and fewer whispered nothings,
More and more shouted accusations.

I guess this time I was the one
Not listening, not hearing.

Till the door slammed.
Heard that clear as a bell.

She talked after that, too:
Said it was my fault,
Said I never talked enough
And when I did,
I never meant it.

She still talked sweet, though;
Even after all the pain,
And the dullness after that,
I lived for her words.

Till her words were drowned out
By Please
And Thank You Kindly
And Inuit stories
And silent, buddy breath.

My ears found a new sound to love;
And yet,
She talked on.

Talked now of betrayal
Of the unnatural
Of the ridiculous
Of me.

Talked to everyone but me,
To everyone whose business
Belonged somewhere else.

Talked to old friends,
Friends no more.
Parents no more:
Talked to them, too.

Many listened.
The ones who will listen to any voice
Louder than their own.
Whose words 'damn with faint praise'
And still can't quite hide
The poison.

To them, she talked,
And they listened.

She always could make a better case,
Could shelter people
From their own opinions.

Damn Mountie's words,
Rubbing off on me.

She talks still,
And they listen still,
But some day her words will run out,
Will run in,
Will run inside her,
And she'll poison herself with them.

And in the silence,
Will be the glorious sound
Of Ben's heartbeat.

FIN

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