I never could have imagined
Falling even harder for you,
But here I am,
Realizing
That you are as much of a lover
As you are a friend.

And I admit,
*You are best at both.

Written ever so secretly
In my hopes,
My dreams,
And my actions,
Are signs about you.
They are carefully etched,
They are so slightly engraved,
And yet, you don't seem to notice them
Unless they turn into
Bright neon signs on a rainy night.

But its understandable.
It can be hard to read
Such delicate little messages.

You lay there in her arms,
Under the blankets,
Both of you comfy and warm.
She whispers softly in your ear...

"Bedtime Baby."

She softly runs her fingers through your hair,
And quietly sings to you,
With the voice of a Godess.

You close your eyes,
Enjoying the comfort.
You are asleep in her arms before you know it,
A sweet little smile on your face...

There's no other way you would rather fall asleep.

I'll never forget the day you stopped speaking.
It has remained in my memory for as long as I can remember.
You were bawling because your throat ached.
Your voice came out in a hoarse whisper one last time before you
never once opened your mouth again.

I sometimes blame myself for your silence.
I've made you angry, upset and miserable
to the point where you lost your voice, or rather
your voice deserted you.

So why don't you hate me?
Why don't you avoid my gaze?
Could there still be love left inside of you?

My dear, don't take  any offense to this, but I like it better this way.
Your silence speaks to me in a way your voice never could.
It seems as though we have a better understanding.
There is no more yelling, no more broken glass on the floor,
no more insensitive words.
There is only peace.

Sometimes, the best form of communication is the one that does not require words.

How best to say sorry to you,
I know not how to do
So I will do it in the only way I know how,
This poem unto you I endow.

I feel so undeserving and useless,
They are my insecurities not your faults,
My life to me is a big mess,
So I resign to cutting the cords.

I lash out for silly things,
And hang on to anger to help me through,
Even if it hardly stings,
I didn’t mean to hurt you.

This, the corniest thing you have gotten,
But what can I do,
My only ally is the pen,
To say sorry to you.