Listening for a song, and the quiet
is so hard to find.
The song would seep from my DNA
like an enzyme,
or fall from the stars like dew.

The song would settle like dust
on my bookshelf,
or form like a painful scab
on my skin.
It would break my heart, again.

It would be about everything,
and nothing at all,
with notes that ring like tears,
rage and lust,
entropy and boredom —
Listening for a song.

– July 7, 2014 –