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That Which Goes Unspoken

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Maybe it's not always meant to be "I love you"
Maybe sometimes it's listening carefully to the blissful silence between each rhythmic pump of a heart like music so beautiful, Beethoven would be envious.

Perhaps "I love you too" isn't essential
It may very well be interchangeable with a slow dance in the early morning, no one watching but ourselves, and oh, how we watch each other's eyes so intently.

Sometimes "I love you more" doesn't have to be said out loud. It can be held close to the heart and spoken through the gentle patter of the rain on our skin while your lips are interlaced with mine.

And maybe,
Just maybe,
these moments don't have to end, like the words do.
These moments can live on forever, and not just in our memories, because even there, they will eventually fade and become nothing more than dust in the wind.
Rather, they will live on in the places and things that will last:
In the blow of a cool wind on a hot summer day,
In the dancing of leaves in autumn and spring,
In the soft buzz of life in the woods when no one is there to listen,
In the subtle shimmer of the reflection of the stars in a puddle on a road in the middle God knows where and who the hell cares because

well,

you know.






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