The Silence You Have Become

If the nightingale sings my song
I cannot hear its nested voice
against this queer loneliness
you gave to me as your gift of love.

Where are the dreams once traipsed in harmonic tones
I whispered plump against the beatings of your blood?
Where is the smile I once dreamed to be mine
you held in thoughts belonging solely to me?

I cannot find the existence of love anywhere,
not in your words,
your heart,
nor your encumbering soul
which haunts me still,
even as I dream, lost, in thoughts of you.

For you are no where to be found,
no where to be seen.
And there is no place for me to trust,
to place my faith, full,
against the silence you have become.