The least favorite part of my day 

is the silence after you wish me good night.

It isn't in the carefree way you say it, 

or in the sound your feet make as you walk away.

It's not in the distant sound of I-278 

shifting the white sky to crimson red.

It's in that sobering, still silence 

that I fill with all of the alternative endings

that could have been beginnings.