Torn from the cadence to taciturn
in no less than a blink of an eye
the reticence rings out in the still night air
where a simple eye-to-eye eludes us.
The sound of the static on the radio
has been drowned out by the apprehensive glares.
A thousand words hang in the air unspoken,
perhaps there's nothing left to say.
Maybe, it's that we have to much to say
but the folly of our past words quash
any hope of forming a structured sentences.
As rain falls, it leaves condensation on the window
as cold as the atmosphere inside.
They say that God is in the rain, well if
that's true, then today he took a raincheck.
As tears flow down our cheeks, I steal a glance
only to find nothing, but cold glazed eyes to my right.
A quivering lip, and a choked back sob is all
that remains of the past conversation.
As we drive on through the still night air,
there is nothing left to say.
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