Idle

Idle waking,
so white the smooth cracks in the ceiling.
I tap,
tap my foot to those soundless drums.
It beats,
my heart to the rhythm of her.
Falling down,
her tears pummel this quiet sound.
What’s lost,
when you can’t find the voice to scream?
Those echoes,
they ring through my mind and rhyme nothing.
I lie,
flat down on my back and feel needles.
They poke,
wicked white pain though nothing touches me.
It’s cold,
my mind when it hears too much.
Frost gathers,
white crystals around the windows edge.
Ice forms,
outside in the elements and veins through my heart.
So cold,
the rain in step with her watery tears.
Too much,
the pain becomes when nothing’s left to say.
Idle moments,
I feel listening through that window.
Disturbing peace,
mine she does by having a life to cry over.
I close,
close my eyes to hear only the methodic drum of my heart.
Such sorrow,
she pleads beyond panes of glass and rain.
Her fire,
a magnificent blaze burning through the idle