How long is too long to be silent
I've been counting the quiet
And only now am I questioning
Why it's there
Perhaps it's the colour of your hair
Or the way you move your fingers through empty air
Playing a symphony on a piano that's not there
Or maybe I'm just being weird
Which is just as likely, if not more so, than the former
Yet you don't seem to notice either
After all, silence depends on the lack of input from all parties involved
Perhaps my actions are likewise stilling your words
Maybe you're as lost as I am
In this conversation of actions
Teaching us the thoughts of one another
In a way beyond syntax and inflection
By the way your fingers move, I bet you're a musician
And I'm sure you've deduced my obsession
With writing by the way my eyes
From time to time
Stare off to the side
With me following the life
Of a character that materialized in my mind
But of course that is all merely wishful thinking
In fact
I almost begin to gather my books into my worn rucksack
Signaling my surrender
When you offer a quiet smile
And I become content, once again
In our unspoken conversation