I think it's too quiet.

All I hear are footsteps at night,
the crawling of complex biochemical machines,
clicking from room to room and filling each others voids.
And then there is white noise,
from the walls and the pillows,
and it keeps you awake all hours.

But it is too quiet for us,
too quiet to talk or touch or even exchange a glance,
because I don't know if you know,
and you don't know I don't know.
Sit there in your smile and be all that you are,
to me the thing I want,
staring at a star.