we bristle over static.
in my head i am holding you,
conveying what i cannot say
but need you to know.
i curl up on my mattress,
i toss, turn;
mis-understanding is uncomfortable.
i cannot tell you in three words
how to cross a chasm,
but in my quietness all you comprehend
is steep descent;
this is the fall that distance brings.
outside my window
the world is dark and indifferent.
pain, my dear, is sometimes silent.
