touch
as to remember
these tender words
resounding
were crippling when echoed to
a curvature of will
reminders of a sweet embrace –
(sentimental pen)
a language we had mastered
in the dark
syllables and sacred vowels
took more than ears
to listen
poems spilled from moments
e’er they breathe
a dialect forgotten now –
a slip of ancient tongue
was never meant to lose
this one translation
read for me
these letters
were settled on my soul
be careful though –
since whispers still remain
as broken glass
we might have saved
when leaned into each other
had not the silence come
to steal a kiss
distracted then
by evermore
words we could have traded
language we had given verse –
would never taste
the same