The window shows me nothing new

The window shows me nothing new,

the same gray sky, the same old view.

My thoughts are tight, a winding thread,

from hurried words that still aren't said.

Then a dull ache, a sudden thrum,

behind my ear, a quiet drum.

My teeth are pressed, a silent grind,

a tension that I always find

has settled in, without my will,

making my temples stand so still.

A secret, hard-won, held in place,

written across my resting face.

It takes a breath, a conscious sigh,

to loosen what I can't untie.