Frames and fragments

I am the voice that can be heard in silence

I am the voice that can be heard when eyes talk, the one which lets action speak,
Or at times do a lone walk.
I am the voice which has a heightened sense of right and wrong, but lets karma have its say.
I am the voice which has stopped voicing out what it feels hoping the right ones will understand anyway.
The sound of nothingness has never been any sweeter,
While the wait for a conversation seemingly become bleaker.

I am the voice that stares blankly from a cloud-shrouded hill,
Not trying to spend even a syllable to describe how it feels.
I am at a loss of words when I stand in front of nature, love, or you,
Perhaps wishing each of you will understand what’s ticking my view.
I find myself unable to express my innermost affection or fear,
Because I have come to terms with preempting what I might just hear.
I am afraid a part of me has become like you,
A part of me which is colored differently—that is your hue.