So Much Silence

Through some course of fate you came to my family's home, where I was staying.

Small things said, and even smaller things done, it seemed your anger had passed.

I say anger, but it could've been nearly anything.

Sitting with so much silence. How often is it about loss?

I was trying to figure out how to, what to... say to you.

Laying on the floor of a room filled with boxes and large stone planters,

little light was getting through, my head full and heavy.

Disconnected and far away, I hear you ask if there's a printer here, and think I must be mistaken. Across that gulf and yet just above me, I hear and feel the flutter of that wisp of paper, your number delicately adorning the page, and you say just as softly, but clearly,

"I missed you."

I couldn't speak, and I felt hurt and happy all over again.

I touch my heart, kneading the ache in my chest, and just look back.

We shared a smile, and moments later, it seemed,

I woke.