we sit; we wait
for one of us to break
this silence in the midst
of our chatter filled fits
this may sound outragious
but our feelings are contagious
and we are stuck going over
every dirt covered bolder
known as an obstacle of travel

we talk; we take
every breath we make
seems to cause tenseness
in our teenage census
words collapsed with desire
like an anaerobic fire
just waiting for some replies
on why our hearts seem to cry-out for a touch
for a feeling we want to clutch
and our minds no longer repent
for free the souls of the innocent