What is Left Unsaid?
Lately, I think a lot about what is left unsaid.
In a crowded room,
where others might be at a loss for words,
you and I always seem to speak.
Yet here in the dark, with no one else around,
silence suddenly permeates the air,
like it never has before.
Have the words between us all been spoken?
What noise would our thoughts make,
if we let them speak,
what would they mean?
Have we reached the point
where there is no longer the need,
to even say I love you?
Or have we used up all of our allotted love,
and thus can no longer
say I love you.
I miss our words,
and the world which they created
when whispered between us in the dark.
When I lie on your breast and you stroke my back,
what is it that is left unsaid?
