Another turned down invitation,

one that wasn’t meant,

one that designed to encourage

one nodded at but underneath

the spluttering search for solitude

commences;

not that I want to be alone,

not that I crave to be isolated

and abandoned, it is just…

well easier to not be in people’s way,

to feel the cruelty of hope

of a conversation that didn’t switch

to feeling guilty, of opening up

about my fears and dreams,

dreams that are smashed with

the sledgehammer eyebrow raised,

dreams that are shattered by the slight

glazing over in the opposite eyes,

dreams that collide and burn

because the other person

in the conversation, the one

you found yourself unexpectedly surrounded by

just wants

to keep you down, penned in and remote.

I wish I could chat so easily to you,

but it is less trouble

to destroy my own dreams every day.

Ian D. Hall 2017