The spoken language is not always clear
So just to make our points right here
We've learned to hush our lips
And talk with fingertips
Love is spoken here

Our body language is our text
Heading for what's coming next
Mutual admiration
Close communication
Love is spoken here

And the bruises of the day are swiftly healing
Nothing comes between us but good feelings
Shadows touch and lips combine
We leave the grinding day behind
Love is spoken here

It works out great we both agree
To stop the words for our recipe
When shadows blend with night
We always get it right
Our meanings come across to you and me

And the bruises of the day are swiftly healing
Nothing comes between us but good feelings
Shadows touch and lips combine
We leave the grinding day behind
Love is spoken here

"Sometimes I feel haunted,
and I don't know how to tell people,
especially people I'm intimate with."

"It's not really intimacy then."

"I guess your right."

"Do you ever run,
do you want to leave?"

"I usually do,
but now it's different,
I like being here
with you,
I like the way you smell
and touch me
and put on your eyeliner
in the morning
and
you make me feel stupid
without
feeling stupid."

You stare at me,
and staring
has never been
so warm.

Usually fear
would creep in by now
hauling
it's bag with it.

But your stare makes cold things
go away.

"There are stupid things
I love about you,
but even more than that,
there are real things."

fear of going under
fear of giving in
fear of losing myself
fear of loss over win

fear of falling in love
fear of letting you in
fear of giving my all to you
fear of loving him

Gertrude

Caught in my *** and in my gender,
Out a king and husband,
Without time to seek a lover;
A son to preserve
His chance at the Line....

What could I do but marry?

He has left me now,
Shaking in my chamber.
A blood streaked line
follows Polonius'
Ignominious retreat
From behind the tapestry
In Hamlet's tow.

What could I do but marry?

I look anew at the two portraits
Chained side by side,
Husbands One and Two;
Re-live young Hamlet's scorning words
And wondering, shudder.

What could I do but marry?

Comes Claudius roaring
To my rooms, his eyes ablaze
My answers tremble, filled with doubt
Of Hamlet's sanity.
New- eyed, I see
The hatred in the King
And fear.

What could I do but marry?