Heavy boots.
Perhaps if I used my smiles sparingly and spoke quietly. You might come real close to hear what I was saying, because I would always say something worth hearing. You would be inches from my lips leaking profound musings smothered with sticky and tantalizing words exhaled from a throat soaked in chai tea and soy milk. I might even smile. There would be stillness lest one of us breathes in too sharply and inhales the moment from between us.
I'm choking on salty sea air and the raspy whispers of lust that were inhaled too quickly. I'm writing the endings to stories that haven't started. I'm swallowing smiles and not saying anything at all.
Is this how we say goodnight?
"But break, my heart, for I must hold my tongue."
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