The silence between us is an intricate detail. One apparent in all of our conversations. Its a detail woven in to our relationship, won by quarrels the heart rages. Nerves chattering over raging pulses. Things you hear better in the silence.
The silence we do so well.

In it we sit still with all the tiny variables, shifting and consuming the minutes.
Our atoms shift between compressed palms and we calm our nerves.

The silence gives in to the pressure of pleasure and in the still air,
We feel forefingers following follicle outlines,
Sense skin slipping,
Softly setting sculpted
Hands.
Softly and
Its silent.

Like we do so well.

Eyes lock and dread,
Knowing the silence speaks millions of moments all at once and
Dreading,
The moment the silence breaks.
When we split for now and feel the air alone and heavy.

Funny how we do it so well,

Because when I leave I feel that silence still, lingering over me.
I feel those eyes on me, those fingers and those arms holding me.
For a few minutes I'm still lost in that haze, never really wanting to leave,
And always wanting to go back.