Don't Say A Word

You’re everywhere and nowhere and this flicker of something that

I believe, so wholeheartedly, that I can grasp at. I’ll shut my eyes, 

just for a moment, and I can almost imagine the sweet touch of

your lips against the curve of my neck. Hush, you. Hush your

words. Hold me so I know how it feels to be the only one that can 

make you feel like the sea isn’t closing in on you anymore. Hush,

for one moment, so I can light the darkness that trails like phantoms around your ankles. Hush,

because I can almost hear the words that you’re longing to say, but I’d rather you whispered them into my sleeping ear so that the

creases of my pillows will hold you in the moments where I miss you the most. Nights lately have been rather lonely, so I’ll just

 listen to the songs that you’ve played out for me in my name and I’ll pretend that these eight pillows that I keep wrapped around

 me can make up for the warmth that I wish I could mold into a you, a boy with fox eyes and rivers in his blood. Hush, so I can

 believe that you’re more than a figment of my overactive imagination. Hush, so I can press the stories of our palms together, trace 

the roads of your veins against my own, feel the walls around both of us crumbling. You’ve weakened me, rendered me helpless.

Vulnerable and childish. My breath is waxing and waning but I know that I can melt into you ever so dearly. Don’t say a word. I,

 know what you’re feeling. I know you, I do. I know that my breath is the evenness and steadiness of yours, and I know that we

 both crossed our fingers that night once upon a dream. You’ve branded yourself into my skin, into the fragile bones of my chest.

You’ve sewn your heartstrings between my collarbones, wrapped your limbs around my own until we’ve become nothing but each other. 

I am you and you are me and we are we. Us. Everything and nothing and something extraordinary.