Illusions of Grand Doors

We sit in silence
Words walk across the tightrope
That is stretched
Between your lips
And mine
But before they can reach
They fall
To their petty, shamed deaths

My grief for you
Is so tangible
I could reach out,
Shake hands with it

Both of us
Are turning gray
As we sit here in the dark
The shades drawn
The darkness seeping into our skin
Until we are nothing
But shadows ourselves

The sound of silence
Rings in my ears
I try to comfort you
To reach out my hand,
But it is tied to my side
As you know,
I have never been one
For affection

—By Sophie Thomas