Your touch had a sound
and so did your face.
So did your hair
your lips
your eyes
your skin
all had a sound in the dusty room at night.
Your touch was a gentle, warm rain washing over the victim,
your face was a golden choir
your hair was wind chimes in the twilight of summer
your lips were crackling fire
your eyes were divers in a lake
and your skin was mother humming in the kitchen.
I would stop and listen to the sounds
melding into one
and wonder if my touch and face and hair
had a beautiful sound
just like yours.
But when i lay there next to you
and i listened to your tunes,
i tried to be silent as a lioness
and hear my sounds.
But i have no sounds,
and neither did you
when you left in the morning.
 
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