sometimes i wonder if everything has a language of its own. if trees and leaves speak their intimate affairs, revealing vehement secrets. do things communicate as we walk by, they're expressions going completely unnoticed. does everything have a song of its own? its own linger to deal with the milestones we cross as we awaken. does the ground we walk on have an opinion of how we go through life and the choices we make? would we be different if we could hear a pencil complain of the words we chose to write on pieces of paper that will never be read. can everything become simple just by learning to hear what moves around us.
i think the night told me not to trust you, but i ignored its whisper. so many moments had been declined, so many intents failed, but that night was special, i reached you. and you were there.. and for once i reached and seized a hand in return.. finally, i thought. and after time heated the fire of desire and longing i had you close enough to touch, to simply observe. i spoke, you listened, words touching my cheek the way only your fingers can caress words unsaid.
undressing vulnerabilities, no matter how coy.. my eyes searched yours, and at moments the night blinded me.. it was its way of telling me not to trust you. but i moved closer as to discard darkness, the closer i became.. the harder the thump was.. of my heart descending into an endless well of questions that will never be answered. and you said that i should give, and i would receive in return, i decided to give. serve yourself from me until there is no more, if i am left dry from your thirst, nothing is to much.
your thirst quenched, but now you refer to me as something
unattainable. g.a.b
