The space between

Dubious fascination—
words unsaid.
Musician thing?
Silence integral
writes its own rhythm,
creates texture,
builds suspense,
gives notes meaning.
Attuned ears
find patterns
in its pleasing presence.
Does it follow
that this brain should ascribe
deep meaning to
spaces between words;
the thickness of your silence;
things you haven't said?
Or personality thing
(do I flatter myself?)—
perceiving thoughts,
moods and ideas
not intended for me?
Regardless,
productive, busy silence
is diametrically opposed
to this one.
Rightly or wrongly,
mind throbs with pain
I imagine you're feeling
and holding inside.