The unspoken words and thick air always lingers but never settles. No

senses can reach this message, I want them

written on paper, murmured in a coy way, tastelessly forced upon me to devour, sung until the music notes are so bright

that crows toes curl at my squinting wrinkles.

What scientists can’t prove

is the nothing of human connection, what hearts tend to lose

is instinct without dissection.

I have no proof and it’s all in my head so the unspoken words and

thick, choking, air,

squeeze out of my lungs. escape from my mouth and into

evidence.

Instead.