Unspoken yearning, a quest to understand...

I'm sitting here
hearing the notes just fall.
They glide so nicely through the air.
Graceful messages
of musical prose;
your attempt at instrumental expression.

Staring up
from my book of poems,
I see light shock my gentle eyes.
The prismatic rays bent
by your glass harmonica
cause a subtle pain.

The gentle melody
resonating effervescently
brings a supple smile to my face.
We've been through much,
these past few weeks.

Oh, how we wish
to understand each other.
To fix things that cannot break
So I grant you a compliment
a thousand times greater
than even your talent permits.

And notes scream out,
my praise leaves you laughing
a lurch in your petite chest.
You huff and blow,
sharply through thin lips,
not believing I really care.

The high notes hit your ears,
forcing you to twitch,
and from your hands,
sliding away through silky palms,
falls your glass harmonica.

The brick of the floor
shatters the casing,
leaving only metal parts unscathed,
yet without its shell
the harmonica never sounds again.
Leaving only painful silence
awaiting verbal waves.