Drip Drop

Have you noticed how quiet it's become?
I don't remember the faucet being quite so loud.
It could rival thunder now.

Remember when the silence was comfortable?
When I was confident I knew what you were thinking
and you could read my mind?
I remember. I miss that.

Now, our silence is heavy
We'd rather talk about the weather
than nothing at all.
We have lost our safety net.
I have no clue what you're thinking anymore.

There's that damn drip.
Every drop
Resonating through our illusion
An S.O.S
for the soon to be broken-hearted

but you don't believe in signs or symbols
tell me the chill in my bones is all in my head
belittling my fear

I never told you how that ate at me, did I?
Consuming all confidence, from the inside out
devaluing passion, prioritizing you...

The weight of the silence is resentment
all the missed opportunities to fill our conversation with substance
exchanged for routine pity parties every Sunday at three

Damn it! Do I have to fix the faucet myself?

...and the weight of the silence grows.