Her Tears

There's nothing more that I can say to you,
I'm filled with dread, waiting for you to speak;
Yet, if I sit here silent, will you rue
The other way I use when I entreat?
Observe me: lachrymose, pupils dilated,
And watch me sob in code, let eyelids flutter
Beneath the weight of tears, that appear fated
To fail to woo the word you will not utter;
For you aren't sorry, I've over-reacted:
My feelings count for naught, though I'm upset,
I hear you clear your throat: are you distracted?
Why can't your anger give way to regret?
There's nothing more that I can say; instead,
I'll sit here mute and filled with quiet dread.