In the evenings, when the sky has lowered her lids and the waning hours seems conspiratory- we must find new languages. I must see you dance to the rhythm- because that is the voice I understand. When I tell you that You sucked all the vulnerability out from the moment, what I meant to say is suddenly the chasm had swallowed me whole- and I need to hear the pin drop.
In the sappy mornings- when we are stuck to one another, when you are crusted to the sheets- I must run around frenetically and sparkle the exterior because I am failing to clean my interiors.
Find that new language with me. Always write on the walls and look me in the eyes that lie between the lines.
