I Sit in Silence

I sit in silence,
as one sits beside the sea
without asking its name.

The room breathes slowly.
A cup remembers heat.
The chair knows my weight
better than any lover.

Silence is not empty,
it is crowded
with footsteps that never arrived,
with words still warm
from the mouth that refused them.

Time leans against the wall,
hands in its pockets,
pretending not to watch me.

I think of you
the way fruit thinks of summer,
inevitably,
without impatience,
accepting sweetness
as a form of waiting.

I sit in silence
and the silence sits back,
placing its head on my shoulder,
teaching me
that even loneliness
has a pulse.