I love speaking
my squeaky voice
its shrill pitch cracking a ear drum or two.
I love saying what I feel
dressing my thoughts in words beautiful
I say them loud
or write them down.
I love sharing what I have
or just making friends.
Yet the one who tearing the ramparts
of my soul ensconced himself in my heart
is stone deaf to my silence,my words,my sighs.
She looked up with eyes mirroring her heart
Turning my gaze,I sighed, I know.
PS: For often there are stories of strife, of pain,which we know of yet act ignorant.