We speak these words in our actions,
tell of the things we
cannot yet
say.
Her eyes question, mine do too,
but we know.
I answer with a glance,
how I've known for so long,
of mine and of hers,
how it has carved its
spaces into my mind,
wrapped itself so snug
around my willing heart.
She tells me today,
with thoughts, not words,
the thing she'll tell me
tomorrow,
of what has soaked
into her being,
tied itself so splendidly
into her open hands,
and as such,
I do the same.