The NaPoMo prompt: take a declarative poem and state the opposite. This is the opposite day poem for Rumi's Bonfire at Midnight (translation: Barks).
Absolute silence from my room,
which I've been avoiding all day.
After all my numbness and unpredictability, you've chosen
to live alone.
You don't want me to.
You take away my food, break me,
remember everything I forgot to say.
A match head shivers in the cold
of the icy daylight silence
the frozen thought, again:
Why aren't all human armies folding shut with this feeling?
It's an amputation, a hand cupped over the instrument
of the mouth, it's a puddle in a crook on a mountainside,
skipping out on our first date like this.