the longest silence

the month we stopped speaking
the birds stopped chirping
their beaks scrape sadness into the
trees in my backyard
the month of march on the wall calendar
is a parade of empty squares
and meaningless appointments
our kisses could have cured
a hundred vacant hours
do you remember how effortlessly
my body curled into yours
and kisses came like exhales
or do you remember it all
as a poorly-rehearsed play
with bad actors and sets