Sitting in silence
in the empty space
between words, I want
to form the links
between you and me--
not with gossamer
thread that may
tangle and tear,
but bonds forged
true, like steel:
no give, no take,
only spaces held
just so--definable,
unambiguous
and impossible
to break by accident.
I want to know
you whole--crawl
inside your head,
hear your hurts,
your fears, and
sometime wishes;
know each pinprick
of pain, each spot
of blood that
escaped the trappings
of your frail,
human body;
see, taste, touch
your soul. I
would stitch myself
into your side
with spider's silk,
become a part of
you, know your
mind, know what
the silences
mean in your own
language. I cannot
think there is an us
until I hear you
speak. There is no
us, just you and me
and the spaces that exist
between,
unbound in silence.
I crave your native
tongue, want to
taste the words
that form to shape
a story that
is not mine.
