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Twenty Days


Daniel

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What I have to say cannot be described.

Like you, warm and cozy. Like you, my darling, in my arms.

There are no words, so I may as well place my lips here

on your cheek, neck, forehead, and just leave them there.

My lips belong there.

There are no words, so there is no point in writing.

Instead, I will keep my hands here, on you, in your hair.

Look how they fit on your thighs and shoulders.

How can this be described?

I will keep fingers locked with your fingers.

My arms should be touching you everywhere.

I cannot write what needs to be said,

though there are stories to be written.

Since there are no words, there are no thoughts.

Here are my lips, fingers, arms, like trees in winter.

Alive, yet empty.

Where are you?

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