Are you Listening?

My ears are bleeding the invisible blood again.
My neck is stiff holding a brain full of thoughts.
Are you listening?
I wanted t o ask my mother the previous question. I did not.
I have found myself wanting to shout that question for years.
Today, I hung up the phone wishing I had the strength to call right back. I didn’t.
I can’t explain how this gives me such fury, her not listening.
I love listening. I am intrigued by the little facts. The things that are thrown in on the pretense that you might hear but the speaker didn’t really want you to hear it or the speaker finally has the courage to say it but says it in such a way only those really in tune will really hear it.
The salesmen hate it. I know the guy at mattress world muttered one of those things last night and it made me change my mind on the $800.00 mattress, that kind of thing
I am not just listening well but hearing well.
I have these supersonic ears that children hate
I have these supersonic ears that I hate. I hate hearing people beside me whispering and laughing small jokes that they feel they would NEVER say to your face because they are my “friends” but they feast on their “inside” joke as they are comforted in their whispers. I HEAR YOU!

I hear her sighs, her cries and I am listening to the worry and fear disguised in her voice.
Why can’t she hear me?
Why isn’t she listening to me?
She calls me everyday now.
Well, she always called daily until we had the incident on her lawn.
You know the one she called me a spoiled bitch,
I hardly ever think about that but it was yet a confirmation that she was not hearing, listening, or seeing the struggles of my life.
A little thing can spark thee questions.
I go months without giving them much thought these days.
I talk to her less.
I can’t stand the peacemaker in me. The side of me who will not say it because I don’t want to start an argument
I don’t want to upset anybody.
We can’t communicate.
You have to listen to communicate.
I am answering my question.
It was such a minor thing that sparked it today,
“It” is my aggravation with her.
I know if she read this she would think I have some type of disdain for her.
I don’t.
I love the strength in her that she cannot see in me,
I hate not being heard.
I have to practice this precise writing S, Gargiola is teaching in his book,
Maybe my conversation lacks precision and she cannot hear me.
A little thing ticked it off today,
She asked “When will u arrive’?
I explained how I just rolled out of bed,
We began small talk,
I hate that too,
We never talk of anything with substance,
When I try she tunes me out.
I began asking her advice about mattresses,
She then said “Okay I will see you when you arrive”.
I stood firm and said,
“Did you ever answer the question about the mattress?” You know that is what I was talking about.
She talks,
I talk, she says goodbye.
Does a conversation have to volley back and forth?
I hang up.
I am OVERWHELMED with memories.
Should I see a shrink?
NO, I think writing this on paper is enough therapy for me.
I remember the first time she heard my voice on tape.
I was excited about a career in radio. I practiced back then.
I loved penning and voicing commercials and promos,
She listened to me for the first time in my adult life.
She questioned over and over again the authenticity of my voice,
She couldn’t believe it was I,
When she finally accepted the voice as me,
She said “ you sound good you don’t even sound like yourself”,
I was proud.
Fast forward….. Today I am on my couch with hunger pains to lazy to fix breakfast.
I now know,
I will broadcast my life,
I will put forth my best performance and she will listen.