You are an echo in an empty room,

caused by a sound no person could hear,

and I wonder if its just that you find your solace,

in making sure nobody ever gets too near.



Your mouth is a faucet, left open a little,

dripping drops of water in the bottom of the sink,

but your eyes speak volumes, and now I wonder

why you keep trying to swim upstream.



Somewhere, there must be a little black table,

reserved just for the two of us.