Can I hear you again? I'm missing
your voice… your words are food
for an empty stomach,
a vacuum,
a person — like me.
It’s very likely that I dream too
much, for I never desire
to awaken; the sun may shine
but you gave me light, enough to
warm a fire that can melt a
glaciered heart…
But nowadays I'm burning, and
the clouds can't help but cry —
when these thoughts pollute
their purity and blue fades into gray.
And when it pours, a flood of words
will lift a page from thirst,
and when I read I hear an echo
coming from the depths of my throat.
Once again I hear you, — how odd
it sounds to my ears…for yes, I
must admit that I forgot
the sound of my voice.