I sit in silence, waiting to be read;
Longing for gentle lips to speak my words,
Yet more that spirit might delve in my head:
Extract elixirs which themselves need heard.
Soft now your footsteps wandering my mind.
What, browsing through my volumes, do you seek?
In asking of the keeper you may find,
But revelation may just leave you weak.
Pages a testament to love which was,
An ode to what the fates themselves arrayed,
For in my living now I still feel loss:
My memories like open wounds displayed.
Do you recall how freely my heart bled,
When with your silence you cut through the thread?
Learning to love the silence 
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