The silence of eyes
drives
me to look over
Head and street
lights
bury your mouth
in a padded
disguise
I'm quiet
while inside
a maelstrom
of emotion--
anger
fear
spite--
is tumbling
and turning
disturbing
what's left of the
deep-set
respect
shirking the desire
that would rise
at the touch
of your thumb
and the lapsing of
love
that simply won't serve
to pacify
when I'm tired
of this late,
soggy night
an attempt at respite
that's merely a sheath
for our longing
gone trite