I might go deaf, blind, or dead

I might go deaf at your silent passion,
a ubiquity of passivity holds your tounge,
muted screams passed on this frequency,
I can wait for a signal only so long.

I may go blind at the eclipse of your light,
waiting for the early moon to pass and
reveal a fire that is burning just behind,
like a yellow star shining quietly in the sky.

I will die at the hand of your kindness,
your slick razor pleasentries sliding
along the wrists of my shortcomings,
I bleed out desire waiting for you.

I will be buried underneath memories.
Underneath quiet echos of quickly
passing years that beg me to hear
and see and live and feel the passion
I so quietly waited for while I was here.