a thousand poems die curled up in my head
the words rise up in last breaths
and lost hopes
fall down like wet leaves heavy with
rains out of season, unexpected,
like sudden pauses in conversations over the phone
crackling with the static of longing and despair
did i miss something you said?
no, let it be, and let me carry on in my pretending
that this silence is more than silence
more a lullaby than a lament.