the sounds we make
the sounds i hear
the waves of the sounds
prolongs in my whisky ear
the quiet in my living room
is my favorite of them all.
red glasses peak from the tops of the book covering the black haired beauty's face.
tiny flips of the pages is heard, from inside the study of hers...
long night it was, the hours mocking at her,
as she signed throughout the night.
tired, and heart broken.
with all of that
she felt overwhelmed.
every memory she remembered
of him.
it hurt.
but the quiet was driving her insane.
he isn't communicating as much...
it doesn't feel right
something is off, with him.
she holds her book as she tosses it to the side
hearing it slide across the wooden floors, eventually stopping
against the wall.
it was the quiet
the space between them both.
what is happening?" she questioned in her mind.
she got up, kicking off the covers onto the floor
she paced her study, rubbing the temples of her head.
back and forth
is the how she illustrated her thoughts.
uncanny and apprehensive describe her issue with him.
but the quiet
where was her music?
where was her sound?
who muted her?
who took her words away?
who took her voice away?
.............................................
it was the quiet.