I am always caught
on the ragged
edges of your breath. There are too many
words in the syncopation
of your sighs
and I never know
which ones you mean. I know
that I need them. A sequence
of notes is not always
a song, but I still listen
for a melody. And still, I expect
more than I find
in your slanted
glance. Your eyes are dissonance
trapped behind glass. Once, the secrets
hiding between your lashes
peeked out. Their echoes
are still tonguing the air.