Loss

Like all fate-less whispers

that are lost to the thoughtlessness of self-obsession,

so did this pass unheard.

I have heard the silence growing,

bit by bit...

In words that remained unsaid because

they seemed unnecessary,

were deemed unnecessary.

In the pause before a hug

that wasn't asked for

but should have been given.

In the quiet comfort expected of a friend

who should have been there,

but wasn't.

I have heard the silence growing, bit by bit.

What was once the inconsequential quiver

of a gentle pluck

is now the screech of a shattered string,

and all music the drifting flotsam

in dying laughter, unspoken dreams,

and unsung memories.

The silence that was once one of expectation

is now one of punishment;

I heard it growing,

and presumed it to be acceptance of my flaws.

I presumed too much.