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Can you hear
the words I’m not saying?
Can you read the poems
that will never make it to paper,
that I fold behind allusions,
the metaphors so close at hand
that you never see me reach for?
There are undertones of meaning
with their own subtle cadence,
framed by the silence.
The themes that bind
in a loose weave, like a story
the songs on the radio
I sing along to with a passion
when all it looks like I’m doing
is passing the time.
The nights I lie awake,
next to you, as you sleep.

I keep no secrets.
Everything is there,
for anyone to find.
There are just some parts
that are best expressed as
shapes of unfilled spaces.
Truths that catch the light
in angles, patterned after
a deep understanding
of the labyrinthine surface,
where touching is privilege
and intimacy is everything.
.

PamOmohundro
.
“The Cellist” by photographer Pam Omohundro

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