the silence

I hang halfway out of this upper-story window.
A cup of tea, a cigarette,
Smoke curling into the cold wind,
Into the tree branches.
Cars pass like ghosts
Through this quiet neighborhood.
The moon wanes into the still darkness of space,
And my heart waxes into the cool flow of words…
I reach out for something
And take hold of it only for a moment.
My thoughts are tiny moths
Flitting around some kind of flame
In the back of my mind.
It flickers, it vanishes.
I miss the silence even as I break it.

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