Asphyxiating on Silence

The painful reality of being silent.

Are the lame jealous of the bipeds?
Are the deaf envious of the hearing?
Do the blind desire to see?
I can’t speak for any of these.
But I can speak for the
mute.
No, my larynx functions properly.
I can sing, laugh,
Even converse on most occasions.
But in her presence,
My voice is stolen
By the ghost of her beauty.

Each night,
I tell her the words I want to say.
My imaginary Elora,
Just as beautiful as the real one,
Knows all my secrets,
And accepts them. I chat
With her nonchalantly
Over coffee
Before a film
On a cozy couch.
She knows I love her.

She is unaware.

Though I can have her,
Hold her,
Adore her,
Lucidly
in my mind’s eye,
I’m stumped for words in her presence.
No voice to express my love.
No words come to mind.
Only awe
And a desire to be held.

And as she leaves,
Forever on to something
Greater, better
I watch on,
Speechless,
With acrid tears in my eyes.