Tuesday, November 10, 2015

The Silence


used to be comforting,
we didn't need words.
The natural matching of
palms to fingers,
eyes to breaths.

Then the accusations;
 we began to stagger under
the weight of all things
not about us...but about him,
you, me, them.

Then, preceding,
succeeding
the tears. We began to lose each other.
I loved you more, you hated me more...
I think, because the silence became
awkwardness,
discomfort,
assumption,
contempt.

I doubt we started wrong,
since we began without words.
Words are not always needed.
Maybe  you could have pulled my hand
away from the crowd, long enough
to make art - colour a red light, a stop sign,
a proceed with caution.
Something to say, please don't leave.

Instead that is all I say to an empty room;
a closed door.

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