To Those Who Won't Listen

My lips move and nothing comes out.

No words, no sound, just a wisp of air forming the regular beats of my breath.

They say just speak, and you will be listened to

However, I digress my dear.

Many argue that it is hard to be heard.

Rather, I argue it is hard to be listened to.

Even propelling my voice outward

Through my lips

Through the air

There is resistance by your ears

You sense the vibration of my tone, yet you ignore me.

So, I speak louder and louder.

I begin to raise the inflection of my tone.

It rises, and rises, until I practically fall before your feet screaming

My voice red, raw, tearing itself up over you

But do you hear me?

I thought that this would be what hurt the most:

Your disregard.

Yet it is the blind eyes that seem to stare right at me.

It gives me the allusion that you are truly present.

Logically, I know that you are not.

I tell myself you are not there; I ask my brain to acknowledge your lingering gaze

Instead, your eyes are open, and I can fool myself into believing you see me.

Many think that I should give up

In a way, I guess I have.

I have grown tired of speaking above all of the noises and interjections.

I have grown tired of searching your eyes, and waiting for them to land on me.

Instead I remain quiet, unmoving, distant.

Only here can I prevent your dismissal.

With my lips poised as if ready to speak,

Yet they remain paused.

And I welcome the silence.