Silence

The dark interior
of cupboards, drawers,
wardrobes, smell of dust
and fading blue water,
spiders spin there;
silky dream catchers
for impossible dreams

Shadows at the door,
no longer a promise
but rather, a taunt,
catching me every time

Where there might have
flickered, once, hope;
a second, a third, a final chance,
dust lies as silent, as thick,
as all the words we ever said
and still I cannot hear...

...a breath, merely, not even that,
rather the tunnel, moments after
the train has gone, or the deadness
of cracked glass, nothing comes back,
no matter how loudly I scream.