Déjà vus

Déjà vus

I speak.
You cut my words to force in yours.
I ride over yours to finish mine.

—

I speak at you.
You mute the words I haven’t said yet.
I ride over yours to save my voice.

—

I speak at the parts of you I see.
You stop my voice to stop your pain.
I ride over yours to be seen for who I am.

—

My shame speaks at the softness you’re embarrassed by.
Your tongue stabs into the wounds I’m ashamed of.
I ride over your attacks to shield myself.

—

An unfolding spiral of déjà vus,
unhappened conversations;
each one a wiser teacher.

Am I ready?
To paddle freely through deep undercurrents.
To interrupt my interruptions before they start.

I speak…