talking, talking, talking— radio silence
the space that nothingness fills is almost violent
yelling, yelling, yelling— something's working
uncovering ugly truths that have been lurking
crying, crying, crying— because it's broken
there is just too much that we let go unspoken

Ya know...

If that most famous pair of star-crossed lovers had only possessed cell phones,

Things might have gone much differently.

Words, like drops of rain
pouring
down
around us.

They end up
into the gutters
and the sea.

One in a million
though
may reach
the heart.

And make
a desert
bloom.

I want to get
the facts out.
The glass from under
my skin.
The rails from the
timber.
Just because I said
that your *** looks
nice in those jeans,
doesn't mean you
get to treat me like
*** crazed dog.
I gave you a compliment;
nothing more.
You're not an object.
And neither am I,
so don't talk to
me like one.
I'm not every
other guy you've
ever met.
Lift your eyes
a little higher,
that's where I am.

For me your silences
will always echo louder than your words, they commute in language I cannot speak, they express some emotions I cannot precieve.

I try to tell you

in the most subtle of ways

of how I struggle,

my dear beloved,

of why I am pained,

of where that I go when my mind has gone,

of what I want from you,

in these subtle ways

that doesn't compromise

with my own dignity.

That doesn't also expliot

my very dependency

on what I need,

of what I beg of you.

You have pleaded to me

a time before,

to tell you,

to show you.

But, I have tried to tell you,

my love,

in the most subtle of ways

Yet,

you do not hear me.

You will not hear me,

will not see me,

in a way-

Oh my dear love!-

that would also

spare me my dignity.