better left unsaid

Walking to the edge of this precipice

…again…

caution and curiosity-

strange bedfellows, i’d say-

on your lips,

tacit, unspoken.

your silence,

a stepchild of our awkwardness,

alienates the sound of crashing waves,

breaking glass…

the ice cracking like

a pond in early spring,

resonating in my ears.

I watch your eyes

surveying the depths of your mind

as you search for the

words to convey

the feeling-

oh, will we ever get used to these

cloudbursts?

we dig in,

resigning ourselves to the storm

knowing all to well that weathering it

we will find ourselves

bathed in the

brighter sunshine of

understanding.