I'm aware that your silence is not like mine.
Each perfect breath you exhale accuses,
my upturned hand gaping like one dumb eye.

When you speak, it sounds like a tinny whine
that chokes my own throat til my voice refuses.
I'm aware that your silence is not like mine.

My hands clasp your face, caressing a lie
that somehow your guileless skin excuses,
my upturned hand gaping like one dumb eye.

The denial of passion is the headiest crime;
obsession will fester through a rain of abuses.
I'm aware that your silence is not like mine.

Each second creates one more knot to untie.
Your curls twine together, form feeble truces.
My upturned hand gapes like one dumb eye.

As skittish as sparrows but straight as a line,
the word that rots in your throat confuses.
I'm aware that your silence is not like mine,
my upturned hand gaping like one dumb eye.