Tangled up
in broken lines of
communication,
seeking out a
melody
that was never there.

Discordant sounds,
blocking them out like a
dam of
sticks and stones.

But your words, your
honest
unchosen
words
will never
break my bones.

For they are frail,
crumbling away when I
catch them in my
fingers
if even there at all.

Hanging for a moment
in the flushing heat
between us
before
dropping
like orbs of clouded glass
and shattering at my
feet.

Worthless now.
Fragments.

All the cuts on my
fingers
from trying to
pick up the pieces,
put them together,
nurse them
tenderly.
Seeking some meaning
hidden in
fractured light.

But you didn't
think of that:
do not realise
what I am
looking for.

But I am here.
I am here and I am
listening -
listening to endless
nothing.

For you make
pitiful words
priceless

because they are
yours.