Love isn't spoken.
It's a silent conversation
     held in a glance,
or small gestures
     just to provide
     occasional reminders
     that you care.
Love isn't spoken.
It's sitting together
     and inching closer
     just to feel the touch
     of them against you.
Love is effort,
                concern,
       unbridled affection,
     and memorizing
     the sound of a voice
     until it becomes its own
     special kind of embrace.
No, love isn't spoken.

I'd like to meet you the way our lips have.
I'd like to speak to you
because your body is a language I want to be fluent in.

our lips parted and you left me in addiction.
I've been ordering skin and tonic every night,
I kiss people so hard hoping to forget whose air I'm breathing
because  I just might not recall that you are all i want to inhale.

I don't think you understand
I would reinvent the world for you.
Just so we could live in places
where our hands would fit into spaces
like puzzle pieces, and magazine faces.

But I cant, my sand castles dry out and
blow into the wind disappearing among stardust.
I can not stop the red sea from parting,
just like I can not stop our lips from parting
and unfortunately I can not stop your soul from departing.

Let me tell you the story of how you showed me what it means to be part of a family.  Let me tell you how sometimes I joke that “hitting means love if it’s your family,” but I’m only actually half-joking, because that’s how I grew up.  Let me tell you how family has been for me in the past and how it meant people that would hurt you, betray you, abuse you, and destroy your very will to live.  Let me tell you about the nonexistent dad, the hateful stepdad, the cousin that liked hand jobs, and the uncle that came for me every night without fail.  Let me tell you that the abuse wasn’t just ******, and how that one time we got sent to the orphanage I was only upset because they took away my little sister.  Let me tell you about how I found a strange peace there.  And let me tell you how all the people I have loved most have died, and how I thought I was a curse so I stopped loving at all.  Let me tell you how weird it is to me to have parents calling to check up on you, and eating dinners together, and just having conversations.  Let me tell you how I look at y’all, confused as to how you can stand one another without the help of drugs.  Because let me tell you, that’s all that stopped the yelling and punching and hate at my house.  But let me tell you about how y’all seem to genuinely care for one another.  And let me tell you how much it makes me want to cry to be enveloped within this family.  Let me tell you about the time your mom told me she loves me and I didn’t know how to respond, because my mom and I only traded hate.  But let me also tell you about how I started saying it back, and mean it.  And let me tell you about my 26th birthday, when your family threw me my very first birthday party, with cake and ice cream and presents, and I didn’t know how to react to such an outpouring of love, or how to begin to show how thankful I was.  Let me tell you about y’all planning a trip six months away and inviting me.  Let me tell you how much it means, not only to be invited on a family trip, but to be accepted so much that it’s just assumed I’ll still be around then.  Because let me tell you, I live in fear of losing you.  And let me tell you about the time you almost gave me a heart attack by asking if I’d be okay with your niece calling me “Aunt Amber,” because part of me is still scared of getting that close.  Let me also tell you how my heart clenched when your mom told me your niece threw away your high school dance pictures because I’m not in them.  So let me just tell you how I cry happy tears now, knowing I am part of a real family.