Tunnels

The silence speaks volumes. You know the sentiment without hearing the words. How the days and nights and hours get eaten up by your disappointing to do list, how there is no room for whims and creative flourishes. You stay up too late at night in revenge, sit in the magic of the dark, of the quiet, strings of Christmas lights wrapping themselves around your periphery. A car across the street blinks hazard lights into the night for hours, growing more dim and still persistent. The remains of a winter storm blanket the seaboard. You neighbor calls and asks if you have a very tall ladder. 

I recite a laundry list of occurences, no mention of the words I long to have fall from my lips. The silence speaks for you. 

You feel it stir in your belly, wait patiently.
In silence you hear what was not spoken before.