Maybe if I would have listened,
To something else besides the birds,
or the wind in the trees,
the cars zooming by on the streets,
the squeaky spring in the couch,
the tick of the clock,
the bass of the stereo upstairs,
the thunder of the storm on the horizon,
the bed hitting the wall across the hall,
the tapping of her fingers on the counter,
the heavy sigh she gives nightly after work,
the words coming in scratchy on the radio,
the mouse living in the wall,
or the leaky faucet,
I would have heard what she wasn’t saying.