The mountain-tops may have been silent,
yes they dragged on and on in winds.
But the words softly spoken with your eyes
transcended all the ones from lips.

Never a spilt drop of acid spoken
not a single name from a darkened room,
the room full of the bled and broken
threads of fears laid out strewn.

For I was not your princess,
nor queen, mistress nor maid,
a gentle wife meets seductress
in your eyes I had been made.

Your friend on days when thoughts come running
already waiting with arms aloft
but the red line beneath your words of anger
catching pieces you'd rather dropped.

Stranded on your bottled ship
occasionally you would let me in.
Greedily I would breath and bathe
In the words resounding from your skin.

Fingers curled round my solitude
pulled me out, firm and sweet.
Whipped a million tears from my foggy eyes
tied laces on my lost, trembly feet.

Together we faced the sun
its chest risen with fresh chance.
but as we walked to'rd the horizon
we had forgotten to hold hands.

Our footsteps washed by quiet rains
the internal battles of the core.
My heart will, nevertheless, remain with you
faintly on your misty shower door.