I am always caught
                           on the ragged
        edges of your breath.    There are too many
                    words in the syncopation
                                  of your sighs
            and I never know
                       which ones you mean.  I know
           that I need them.       A sequence
                    of notes is not always
     a song, but I still listen
                          for a melody.      And still, I expect
                                  more than I find
     in your slanted
                       glance.        Your eyes are dissonance
                         trapped behind glass.      Once, the secrets
                                     hiding between your lashes
           peeked out.            Their echoes
                    are still tonguing the air.