50 People - 23 Poem by Raj Dronamraju

23

Our lady of the perpetual ringing telephone
You are the one who murders the time for quiet thoughts
You showed no mercy for peaceful reflection after work

And when your mouth opens, it swallows the world
Just a little further and you'll officially break my patience into individual pieces
Those pieces will be impossible to fit back together again

I realized only recently that you were worth more than talking about when we were not together
However, you are the incomplete social interaction
With more focus given to the part where you exchange gossip, those words like salve on the skin-the meaning not so important

An allowance for words in a lifetime's shallow village
I'll be the one to break the selfish talkative relations that have formed
My discussions will not drift, they will pinpoint and draw down on a target
Out of this a dialogue will be born
At least I hope so - I hope you were listening