On that first day you were so clear
The light gleamed through your palms
And the lonely birds decided to rest
Within the confines of your eye sockets
Our hands first mingled together with bleach
We determined that the silence could no longer be endured
Because silence is meant for more
Then just spelling awkward with an o
Or the hidden breath behind a lover’s first kiss
It’s meant for the ears of stone cold mother
And the eyes of an ignorant man
For the cartoon riddled pajama pants
Waiting for the soft joy of skins tender touch
For a graphite mouth
Pressed so deeply against a pure white chest
That the marks it leaves are finally more
Than meaningless chicken scratches
For the starving veins
Wishing for simple blue to bath its naked soul
To scrape off the unjust vermillion red
That contains thoughtless hopes
And the memory of a bleak white summer
Silence is asphyxiating
Silence is dying
Idle words wrapping tightly
Reminiscent of the snaking umbilical cord
Trying so hard to crush the drum
Before it has yet begun to beat