love between us is quietly there,
in subtext and allusions.
*** is hidden by euphemisms
and ambiguity.
that is all we'll ever have:
unspoken chemistry.

glances, accidental touches,
late night conversations.
passion sparkles slightly
in the darkness, in goodbyes and good mornings,
in the way my name sounds
from your lips, the unexpressed desires.

invisible to the inexperienced eye, some might argue
it's not there.

but to those familiar with it --
the scholars, the romantics --
it is inevitable, invariable.

we are quiet desolation. we are close, forever closer.
most of all without touching;
most of all between breaths
and heartbeats,
in thoughts of each other's arms,
and in separate beds.