Silent thunder by Jude kyrie

Perhaps we have been
married far to long.
Have the words all been said?
Have I become the furniture.?
Or
Has it become me?

I offer you an apple
For dessert.
It is sweet and ripe
It's juices flow like the 
Apple within the garden of Eden.
They will flow down your face
drenched in sweetness.

But you hold it like a stone.
Even as I look to the blue sky.
An ocean for the 
white shape shifting 
clouds that hold
no rain in their silence.

I see them fascinated
by me in a language
that needs no words.