Simple Words, Missing Things (Gone unheard)

Simple words.
They stick in my throat
Tied in my tongue
Sewn in my skin
As fingers dance ballet
Down the curves
Of hips and cheeks,
Half escape, half retreat
Part my lips
In croaks and creaks.

The simple words,
Sometimes, become
The ones we can't speak.

Missing things,
The pieces that we gave away
Linger in thought
The infected cuts
Where we were rent in twain.
The fits and starts
The kicks and sparks,
Belts whining, gears grinding
Out the dirge
Of a high mileage heart.

The missing things,
Maybe, the very
Pieces we know we need.

The simple words,
Missing - the heart's
Mechanization gone unheard.