It was Monday, or Sunday maybe,
one of the yellow days.
I was talking to You and I heard it:
The sound of two hearts, colliding,
and then...
sliding onward.
We had missed each other again.

Do deaf people fall in love through caresses?
Yours travel miles over the phone.

I would tell you how I feel
But my words would hardly be
The first or the billionth
       Cry of pain or tired sigh -
The room is not quiet, the world is not silent.

I would tell you what I think
But my opinion wouldn't be
The first or the millionth
      Vicious agrumentation or complaint -
My voice isn't the only, its sound isn't the loudest.

I would say something...
But you know how much I hate repeating something someone else has already said...
Am I desperate, brokenhearted, hurt, angry, betrayed?
Or am I
(

                 )?
I guess you'll never know.

Everyone in the room
Must have been deaf and blind
To miss
   That quiet flutter –
        Of three thousand bees listening to jazz –
   That subtle shimmer –
       Of two hundred golden sparks, shooting out of a dying fire and ON FIRE themselves –
   That combustion in my heart –
      Which made all those New Years and Fourth-of-July's seem like practice runs.

They probably thought I was dancing to the music –  
       What music? –
I was listening to your breath
And dancing to your touch –
       As if my skin receptors were piano keys and with each touch your fingers came up with another
        note
But then the music stopped –
        I knew the song –
The fire died –
        I felt so cold –
It was the 1st of January or the 5th of July or September  or tomorrow –
        *I don’t remember.

Just last night I thought
I was finished with everything new...
Look at this tangle of thorns!
- All New Monday - Same old life.
The Oscars run longer and longer,
But some things never change.
Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,
What would everyone rather me do
Keep the votes coming!
I'll be bold and mighty forces will come to my aid
Or
I will sleep through Monday.
How to make choosing easier -
Can we talk about that?
Can the mysteries of the human heart
Ever be revealed?
It's supposed to be a surprise...
What is?
Life...
- Will have you weeping for the joy
And tragedy of it all.

If I were a bit braver
I'd pretend I was jumping when actually falling
And go to the bathroom at night, strolling.

And in that nice diary I'm afraid to start writing
I'd use a pen even when crying.

I would pack no sweaters for a summer vacation
And in the winter only one...or three for any situation.

And instead of "I'm fine"
I'd answer: "I wish I'd get a sign"
That everything would be all right
And I would someday finally feel light.

I would use staplers instead of clips
And teach myself to do front and back flips.

I would take a step and never look back
And live my life off of a sack.

If I were a bit braver
I would go climb a tree
And actually do something after counting to three.

I am trapped.
The strangest thing though,
Is that the leg-hold trap
Feels in my heart.

How did it get there?
And if there is that much
Iron in my body,
Why do I still feel
Short of breath?

Maybe it's too much....
Didn't I read somewhere
That too much iron in the blood
Causes heart irregularities?
Yes. That would explain a lot.

And it's probably the traps's serrated jaw
That's causing all this pain!
I see. I'm sure the doctor would agree that's true,
I was worried for a second
It had something to do with you...

I take it all into account
The love, the pain, their lack of count.

I list the trees, the sea,
The dirt, the ***,
The He, the She,
Our ability to see...

I add, subtract and multiply
And also add the fear to die
And our tendency to cry...
The food, the bed,
The relief of paying off a debt,
The smell of books,
The first-line hooks,
The hate, the disappointment
And the joy to find an ointment...

I cry, I laugh, but mostly think
And finally dip the goblet and start to drink,
As I know that soon my mind would find another truth
And I might lose my grip and step away from
The fountain of youth.