There are days that silence rages so fiercely,
I fear the panes will crack and cave.
O how I long for your witty exchanges once more.
We spend hours, lingered in poetry,
conversations enlightened with articulation,
and then your mind snaps;
I learn to entertain myself between silences,
to sift through diaries left haphazardly on tabletops.
The words you’ve written scream for release;
your tortured mind begs for forgiveness.
I want to wrap you in my arms
and chase away whatever beast has your tongue.
The silence seeps under doorways;
a smoky haze soaks the room.
There are days when you wander the halls
as if there is something you want to say.
I wait, in anticipation, for one mere syllable,
just one sound of recognition from your lips,
to explore the vast knowledge imprisoned in your mind.
Such madness controls you.
Given the chance,
I would say all the things you cannot,
if only I knew the words.
Copyright © 2013 Lori Carlson.