You don't hear
when heart breaks;
you don't here
when it wakes.
You don't understand
what happened with me.
We couldn't depend
on everybody's glee.
I scout
the idea of supernal;
but time is out
and I'm funeral.
Why the sky is blue
and clouds float?
Where the clue
to our road?
You don't think,
don't hear,
don't drink,
you just aren't here,
but you spear
my heart
by shout.
Something very loud
exists in silence.
We go with the crowd
and our parlance
can always wound.
