perhaps
the silence
of souls
(and the lonely vagabond)
causes the crowd
inside
to crush
compress
idle.

or...
the wait
for semantic value
for purpose and thrill,
motion and love

and love and love.

and i never could
speak those three words,
for fear
(or solidity or earthquakes or
sadness)
kept me steady.

but i still see the perfect moments
in grayscale
in movie screen filter.

with his back towards me
tracing softly
with my finger tip

three words

so easy.

and the worst of it all
(the tight in my chest
and wince in the brain)

is that i knew
i just knew
that if i said it...

he would say it back.