Argue

Like a game of ping pong, 
our lips throw out words,
so casually, without the intention
to listen to what the other has to say,
I throw you five syllables,
you respond with three.
The dictionary in our minds,
ever so busy scraping 
for the correct response,
lest we utter insults
in fear of coming up short,
with a better response,
not to questions
but as our answers.
We talk like we
understand each other,
our bodies having a
language of their own,
arms and legs,
speaking fluent dialects,
yet we misunderstand
way too often
what the other has to say,
a compliment turns
into criticism and
vice versa. 
Neither of us is the winner,
nor do we come to a draw,
there’s no stalemate either,
but we go our separate ways,
unaware of the wounds,
we’ve inflicted on each other
and on ourselves.