You don't talk about her,
I don't ask.
And one day out of every 365,
I know not to bother you
in your office.
I know not to ask
why you lock yourself up.
Besides that,
I know her eyes were green.
I know her favorite song.
I know you loved her because of the silence,
because sometimes there is a corpse
sandwiched between us at night.
You don't talk about her,
I don't ask,
because I'm not waiting for you
to forget her,
I'm just waiting for you to realize
I'm here
for you
in the
silence.
and I wake to green eyes.
YOU ARE READING
Today, Love: An Anthology of Self
Poesíait's easier to define certain mysteries by what they are not
