And we can talk all night
in silent words, our thoughts
painted on the walls
of our fear reddened cheeks,
we can let that
fear slowly sleep
as we let
our hearts
beat in conversation
instead.
And in whispers we can let out our secrets.
Those things that are kept only between us
and the moon above, a growing orchard of
fresh fruit, that all tastes of love.
I’ll listen intently.
and I’ll share myself, gently
in a sea of kissed butterflies.
For our words are more than a simple sentence.
We are a presence, and our language speaks in
the moments of silence,
and the longing
looks held in passion.
And we can talk all night,
our words patter
across the windows,
raindrops on glass, fragile
but sturdy enough to form puddles,
to forge rivers through
countrysides so vast,
to form oceans
we can just dive in and bask
in the hidden depths.
And we can whisper
in the ticking of clocks,
the way time stops, when eyes lock,
we can feel sensuous seconds elapse,
and twist the clock back
to a memory of the past,
or skip it forward to a future
where we see ourselves
watching over
new horizons.
As deep as we want to be.
In the silent whispers our seas
will never be shallow,
for our words are not hollow.
And when we let those words fly,
their wings soaring into the starlit night,
we can open our hearts more, pour out
our words to lay out a blanket fort
across the floor, and playfully
we can explore our minds,
we can sit in their silence
as they whisper stories,
put them together
into a piece of poetry
that future generations
will scour for truth, for clues.
For the words that whisper.
I love you.
