I talked in streams

A poem about miscommunication (what else can poetry be about?)

I talked in streams
Where you merely waded in its shallows
Treasure hunting was not your virtue
When it was marked out and moaning

I talked in gusts
Whilst you boarded up your house
Not out of protection, of course,
But to keep your hairs in place

Each one of them

I talked in grains of sand,
Where you and I used to grab glances
Catullus' plea had been denied
The desert had been run dry
But at least it was temperate

I talked in chasms,
Jaw dropping distances
Placed in the minds of
Those just next to me

Too tiring to make the jump

I thank you so much for your gallantry,
Lance collecting dust in your wardrobe
For if you had ventured any closer
My landmarks would have never have been created.

A dot on a blank scrap of canvas.