my voice will fill these moments
paused seconds waiting to be heard
play buttons quivering with anticipation
though your ears might not receive it
with the outcry of joy that I imagine
as I read the prewritten words
into the tiny microphone's cavity
and tell myself that I send a replica
of the giddy, monotone, child-like love
that I've planted in the trenches
of my staunchly protected delusions
still my voice will hang suspended
in that mystical place of silence
where things could be heard
a place where things may be heard
but with no one there to listen
who could ever be sure
maybe your indifference should sadden me
instead I choose to believe in magic
to ascribe to your lack of attention
the ability to make us eternal
somewhere between my deceptive lips
and your unreceptive ears
this poem will wait forever
for just the chance to be heard
and thus you and I will always exist