I practiced it all week

I practiced it all week:

simple words to fill the crack between us,

a line to reach out, to hold, to heal.

But when her quiet sobs filled the subway car,

I pressed my lips together,

closed my eyes on the words caught in my throat.

Hands clenched in pockets, shaking

beneath flickering fluorescent lights,

the silence grew wide and heavy.

The things left unsaid pile like broken glass,

sharp edges catching the light,

cutting deeper with every missed chance.