Between us

this is about surrender.

This is the story I write to be close to you

when we are apart. We are always apart.

I write the warmth, the bedding, the body wrapped around mine.

If love were heat, and I am always cold.

Even as I inhale your skin, hear your voice.

Love you could only speak when my back was turned.

“Bury the words,” you tell me. “Your silence is what I came for.”

Set aside that small praise, unwilling and shy,

so unlike us, our passionate indifference. We are in the pause, or beneath it.