Crossing Three Novembers

In silence, I find no pride or problems.
Like writing letters where there speaks no reply,
and staying with the moon
until the stars shut their eyes.
Gazing at you behind my window,
that gap in the constellation where
a star used to be.
Hoping my dreams could reach up to meet you.

Then I am indignant. Squatting in the corner,
hugging my knees, trying hard to nurse my wounds.
So I could give birth to emotions again.
So I could stop loving you in silence.