She waits for what will never come

in silence

across the void

her heart calling out, in silence,

because her voice cannot be heard

across the void.

On the other side of the chasm,

he waits

expecting her to make the first move

because she’s wrong

because she always does

because he knows how it hurts

because he doesn’t care.

Pain and heartache cannot be translated

they echo within the void

never crossing the chasm, ricocheting

back to their source.

She cries as she waits. He waits as she cries. Holding out

she waits for something that will never come.

Holding out he can never know the scream

of silence within this chasm that

she just can’t find her way across.




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