I tiptoe on definitions,
trusting that
eloquence and versed language
might be enough.
Underneath the sky, love is a language.
No one is fluent,
but words become my way.
It takes time,
and I might stumble.
But love,
listen.
Between lines, I am true.
I am full of intricate detail
that makes no sense
unless you
listen.
-E.K.
Jun 26, 2018
Jun 26, 2018 at 2:31 PM UTC