We flourish in this partial reality.
As I quietly touch your face, your lips, with my thumb,
Begging to know the thoughts you never utter.
Perhaps this suppression is a favorable one,
Where after my uninformed dreams will run wild with hope,
And your affections are safely concealed by
Plaster walls and my contract to mum.

We really do thrive here.
In this vacuum.
I dare not think of when we must leave it…
When nights like this one
Come to a close.

We will only be able to dislodge quavering,
Reluctant sighs.
For we have so often recited the volumes of our hearts with
No words.
Always saying everything by saying nothing
At all.

Only fit for heaving heavy desperate breaths--
Airy, impalpable syllables.

On a silent quest for time’s
Antidote;
Struggling to exist permanently within
Such small moments.
Lips.
Hair.
Skin.
Snippets of life to which we cling.