Inked Musings

Poem 17: Lost in the translation

Hey... I never received the new dictionary.
Could you send it my way?
Please.

•••

I've been busy dreaming of fields of flowers and sunshine.
Never having to contemplate about morose musings.
But I'd rather not lie and say I'm feeling fine.
I still wonder when anything turned into my everything. When everything became nothing.

I probably missed the time shift.

That is the only thing that could probably explain how things could've turned sour.
How fields of carefully nurtured beauties turned into barren grounds and dead flowers.

When did the words turn shallow?
When did they stop meaning so much more than what was inked or spoken?
When did we stop reading between the lines?
When did we stop understanding more than what was said?

Were we lost in the translation?

You and I?

For I was sure that 'I love you' were tender words full of warmth.
I was sure they weren't a vice grip of coercion and manipulation.
For I believed there was a single word that could express a myriad of emotions.
I do not know, when 'sorry' became so empty. So meaningless. So pointless.
'Please' once held the power to command respect and give it in turn.
But today, it has become a mere obligation.

Another one that I've had to unlearn.

And I'm forced to brave this tempest sea.
Unlearning what I've learnt and learning things I'd rather unlearn.

Some days, I still think about the days before these woes.
When I'd dream of midnight snacks and inside jokes.
When I could carry novels around and talk of the classics.
When I was neither dejected nor broke.

•••

I never did get that new dictionary.

Perhaps it's better I did not.

For words were lost in time.
And I sit alone in the crow's nest.
And today wasn't the first nor last.
Of the times I have hoped
I'm not alone in the past.