How deafening is this silence,
when I am straining my ears
to hear the words you will not,
or cannot
speak.
Who has a hold on your tongue...on your heart?
What emptiness surrounds me
as I long for the warmth of your voice
the light of your eyes
the solidity of your hand on my skin
Where are those precious whispers
of love and laughter
weaving fantasy and distant reality
into a solitary hope?
When did you stop believing in our dreams?
Why is it so difficult for you
to give such a tiny piece of yourself to me
even knowing I would treasure it,
until I am but ashes on the pyre?
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