Stalemate (Poetry)

What is there now but silence?
the stubborn phone is dumb
the letterbox remains tight-lipped
and ever since we split it seems
no birds have sung
not one apologetic cheep

Perhaps you’ve lost your voice
or are simply loathe
to be the first to speak
or drop a test-the-water line
instead each of us sit and fret
waiting for a sign

The hollow air expectant
almost desperate for a sound
the door anticipates a knock
a familiar footfall on the ground
when nothing happens
the silence shatters into sighs
that bounce the walls around