I stare into you, you into me.
And I see a language that isn't written
in the books that you read.
Or even in the words that you had conceived,
and hid away so carefully, to be unbelieved.
In your stare I am told a story, and reminded of a need,
that I also find within myself, for these words to be freed.
And in those eyes I found that these lips came to stutter,
when I asked you how many confessions could a gaze ever utter?
After a night of staring deeply into each other,
you replied, "Many," and made my heart sputter, murmur, flutter,
and then dip into the gutters, and sit in a messy clutter.
Daddy, you made me melt, I swear this isn't butter.
All for a second, I knew, you knew and we knew one another,
and I wished, you wished, and we wished to be called, lovers.