It’s my finger tracing your eyebrow or my hand upon your chest – lingering as long as it can in a caress that won’t wake you. It’s a touch that calms and a kiss that conquers. It’s an uncomfortable distance I allow to keep you safely breathing – the nights alone and the tears that quietly glide down the walls of me. It’s your gaze as you walk three steps behind me to take in the sway of my hips that I plant purposely for your pleasure.
Mostly, it is my silence of circumstance accompanied by my smile – a smile that grows with yours when given opportunity and culminates in my lips upon yours – the lips I would have forever touching mine. It is strength I pull from visceral longings as I release and rechart – and then rebuild.
It is words we never run out of; days we never have enough of; a truth I have never been more aware of.