Watching you like this, I can think of
a thousand different things I want to say to you,
like,
The moon slid off the face of the sky just like a tear.

But my mouth disobeys, stays shut as a tomb.

Were you about to say something? you ask, and I’m left
defenseless, the doors behind doors slamming shut,
bolts locked into place.

Meaning comes later, after the words that will be spoken
have been spoken.
Memory will come, too, with its sharp little teeth
that dig and dig.

Don’t try so hard, the mind whispers, before the body
flings itself into action.

Nothing, I say, and smile.