my friends’ tune

if I attune my ears
to your silence,
I can hear
the suffering, and the loneliness
that runs deep
in the dark of your heart.

I can hear the cracks
in the surface
of your strength,
the fibers of your muscles
giving in.

the dreadful wet sound
of sweaty fingers
that slip from the windowsill,
and the dry, heavy thud of a body
hitting the ground.

In my mind, I translate the words
spoken
(in their very own secret language)
by your eyes.

they are quiet,
but I hear them.
I do, I do, I do.

if I keep my mouth shut,
close the windows,
squint my eyes,
I can listen to
your pleas-
weak whispers-
that are never “help me”,
but always
“every thing hurts.
every where.”

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