Tell me,
How did you get so much power?
How your voice shapes my day like
My hours are clay in your
Beautiful hands.
Because it's not a good morning
Until those words dance off your tongue
Into my awaiting ears
And without them,
My morning feels a lot more like
Mourning.

Every night I lay in bed
Fighting between two choices.
Trying to decide what will hurt less;
Dreaming of what could have been
Or staying awake to delay
Waking up to another day of
What isn't.

I've broken bones and
Been under the knife a few times.
I've collected burns, scrapes, cuts,
And bruises.

But nothing...
Nothing,
Hurts like silence.

She had the kind of voice that
Could calm a stormy sea
And in its absence, my heart
Is a maelstrom and I'm
Discovering how deep the
Ocean really is.