Saying things that are implied is only redundant if I am listening,
  but my ears have been filled with leaking thoughts
       and sounds reserved for when I flip the light switches down.
  loop after loop, it all becomes static
    his voice is a plant drooping from it's ***, melting down the sides
                    like lava I'm not afraid to touch.
   it is still nothing to yours:
Opening my eyes is harder than saying goodbye,
   harder than letting go for one cold, shivering moment
        even if all I need is enough breath to hold on tighter.
  the lines of your soft skin are muted whispers against mine,
              and the only visible movement dances colorfully inside of my eyelids.
     why is it so hard to
                    speak                when I am left
Alone, where thinking becomes almost excessively easy.
   it is too soon to mean it, or even let it float around
        while I cry, and wait for you to reach                        out
      and clasp it into the palm of your hand, where it will seep
   soak
           breathe in as part of your blood;
   but the feeling of not being able to convey how much I care
       is more taut than a balloon on the verge of eruption.
P**lease let me listen a little longer,
   breathe a little deeper,
   tell you things like thank you and ask you things like
                                            why?
           ­  because even I don't know sometimes.

The first chime
a man beaten by time and weather
waits at a silent bus stop for the last
chance he’ll get to see his kids
before they’re gone

The second chime
a woman on her back, wearing
nothing but a smile she doesn’t mean
feeling human again with a man she
doesn’t even know

The third chime
noisy commotion around a bed
the doctors saved the baby but
mom paid the ultimate price
who will tell the father?

The fourth chime
a million questions race through
your head as you try to fall asleep
what will tomorrow hold for me?
only time will tell

The fifth chime
as the last customers leave the
manager of the diner walks out
tonight he will make the decision
not to drink himself to sleep

The sixth chime
a little boy, tears rolling down his
face as he hides under the covers
he always hates it when mommy
and daddy fight

The seventh chime
a priest sits at his desk in the house
of the Lord, weeping with guilt
how can such a sinner lead any of
God’s people?

The eighth chime
out on the rocky beaches
a man and a woman are wed
by the sultry light of the moon
and nothing more

The ninth chime
six men carry the casket of
a seventh, a man they all called
father and sir but never
just Dad

The tenth chime
high in the Cascades, the light
of an emergency flare finally dies
along with the last hopes of
the stranded hiker

The eleventh chime
night is still young for most
but for some it is only the start
of the hardest day they will
ever weather

The twelfth chime
the bus comes, and the man
sighs with relief to know he
will be able to see his sons
before they’re gone