Talking
was something we did for hours
late into the night, often by the fire
with our lips pressed hard against glowing skin
swapping tongues and stories from the waist
eyes locked together as we slid into place
I recall
your smiling mouth as I gasped
I listened as you whispered words meant only for my ears
and I learned something new about you
words were something you knew how to use
perfectly
you avoided
those three words
but you had my show of hands all along
If I don't call out to you I'm afraid I'll lose my voice
and yours will fade away
I refuse to believe you have nothing left to say
LH 2015
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