Silence Has A Sound

eyes

These eyes,
they hide
a wall of tears
though it does nothing to quell the flame,
they hide behind
a wall of fears
that echoes the sound of your name.

This heart,
its roads,
its inlets and tributaries
that venture to you
and from you
are stained red from the wine you spilled
though it had no color.

These hands, these arms
as they hold and surround you
though they mean to provide you peaceful solace
they only seem to confound you.

This silence –
this silence though it may be golden
it is not always consent;
mere empty promises that keep me beholden
to words, like a coil that is wound
and wound,
betraying a silence that does indeed
have a sound.

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I Did Not Tell You

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There was so much I did not say when you said goodbye
Now I wonder if I did, what would have been your reply

I did not tell you that your leaving
was a catastrophe buried in grieving

like the avalanche leaving the mountain slope
destroying all flicker of hope.

I did not tell you of the heart that you ripped asunder,
leaving it to drown in a sea of its own blood,
or of the soul you left in silent wonder
like the silent destruction after the flood.

I did not tell you that I saw an ocean in your eyes,
and that every time you spoke I felt your spirit rise.

I did not tell you of the graceful gait with which you moved about,
and the confidence and assurance that left me with no doubt.

I did not tell you and I never will, some words are to remain unspoken,
but every word I said to you was a promise that remains unbroken.

I did not tell you that I did not know who I was without you,
that every word you spoke was truth and I could never doubt you.

I did not tell you that even now the wind still carries your name,
and every flood of tears I swam through could never kill the flame.

I did not tell you how your arms engulfed me, how much your love surrounds me.
How your mere touch could heal my soul, will forever astound me.

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Between the Falling and the Fall..

Kiss Of Passion - Leonid Afremov

How do we pinpoint that exact moment
between the falling and the fall
between the fragrance and the memory
between the lasting and the temporary

between the strike and the flame..
between the essence and the name

between the grasp and the retract
the flight and the impact.

between the bud and the blossom,
the mundane and the awesome.

Between the silence and the sound
and the music that abounds,
between the pluck and the strum
between the parts and the sum.

Between the hit and the miss
the drawing near and the kiss
the passion and the bliss.

How can we grasp that imperceptible shift
between the forgetting and the recall,
… between the falling and the fall..
in Love