the pause

the pause is charged and heavy

I can hear it in the dark

when airplanes stop and sirens die

and all we have is silence

no more static on the screen

or programs we don’t want

to keep us changing channels

to find something to watch

the pause is loud and heavy

too much at once to face alone

I hear my breaths and nothing else

ignore the thoughts left on the shelf

with spiders and their webs

and piles of books I haven’t read

I play with pixels on the phone

and beg my thoughts leave me alone

the colours flash and do their best

to keep me from the sleep before

I live and die through dreams until

another day of more

the pause is there in every room

hanging by the window

like a painting or mosquito

or the mirror in the hall

the pause is always waiting

and I’m never hard to find

lying on the floors of rooms potential left behind

and there is always something more

and I will never run away

the pause is waiting at the door

that I will open anyway.