i’d swaddle you with words
but know they’d never stick,
falling away from your grin
and honeyed eyes
which take it all in.
you lean forward and pour
another cup of black coffee
and hand it to me, our fingers
barely touching beneath
a cold winter’s sun.
say the word and i’ll run
off with you, just us two
against a cruel world
which celebrates our scars
but not what truly counts.
you look up at me and smile
as if reading thoughts
in the furrowed lines
which dot across my forehead
with morse code precision.
i smile in return because
you’re my favorite sight, even
if these whispered words
have remained a secret
unspoken until now.
you ask what i’m thinking,
your singsong voice
pulling me out from a deep
reverie. “nothing,” i reply.
and you giggle at the lie.
