He was an English teacher, avid writer,
and yet he couldn't shape the words and make them sound just right.
She was the kind of girl who would talk to a shoe,
just to fill the silent moments,
and yet she was biting her lips

Tonight the rhythm in their breathing formed the words;
their heart beats the sentences.

The way her head rested against his chest held more meaning than words could ever express.
The way his arm held her close to him,
how he kissed the top of her head and took in the scent of her hair,
created volumes.

There is no word,
No paragraph,
no language that can give enough beauty,
to the things whispered between their skin when it touched