Three Thousand Miles

I sit
in the canopy of
my dark you, creating
harmony inside a window.
The moon hangs red
and green over us, worlds apart.
The music of silence evolves,
as we become the coherency of stillness.
Laughter is slipping,
drowning as you are withdrawing.
Withdrawing into places I can not go,
places I have long ago left behind.
Blindness is the only sound you make
across the miles, across the three thousand
tones of your voice.
No taste
No touch
Inconsistency running
as the current of our connection,
as you fail me in perfect time.
Splashes of water and mirth give
life to my sightlessness beyond your transom,
and with eyes closed my vision is clear.