Your words are there, but.....
Somehow vacant

Truly melancholy is my moment
With faces like whispers, penetrating my mind

Many conversations recalled
Spilling out, many without recourse
Whose silence demands my attention

There is no choice with some
Their words already spoken, buried and gone

Hurt me with the silence ….
When there should be a song sung

To know your choice turns and misses
The waiting becomes a reality
To throw into the mix, pulling out a grain of humility

You don’t even know, perhaps this makes it worse
You burst the bubble
Chased the blossom from the trees