Ebullition

[Semicircle]

There is a space
between my ears
that grows every day,
stretching itself like a ballerina's spine I cannot connect ballerina's spine and ears. 
until your words, like sure darts,
find their homes.    Strike precisely
Each word marinates in timid welcome
and flits behind my ear at night.
Each thought cowers in front of a question mark
until it hears you speak.

This space echoes
with your words, arriving like sirens,     I stumble over sirens
paused only by
a demand for a response
but my tongue retreats into its cavern.
The words do not have lifespans--
they travel to the tremor in my fingers,
the ache in my temple,
prying my eyes open
on still nights---
swelling

until a scream erupts, an ebullition,
quaking with years of silence
disguised as hope. I watch as
it holds your gaze hostage.

Finally, I have a horizon
it stretches its arms
beyond the imprints
of your tongue.