I cannot describe the quiet in my head when you speak to me.
******, my neck lilts to the side just a little. My ears move towards the sound: the rumble, the promise of soft vibration that I just know will settle the buzzing under my skin.
     My lips part, sometimes in the faintest of smiles; as though the taste of your voice could be pressed to my mouth like a kiss. I ache with the need to feel how you form your words. I ache to feel the movement of your mouth while you whisper and mutter, giggle and moan. I do not care where, I just know I have to feel this.

Do your hands move with the same grace as your voice? Will your body grant me the same stillness as your words?

When you hold me, Darling Boy, will your arms gift me the same safety that your voice gives my mind?