The Silence Between Us
To my husband: I miss you.
When the silence between us breathes naturally
And my mind does not speak
Does not race
Does not need
>
For the contrast of our skin
The difference of our hair, kinky or silk
Eyes of hazel versus brown
Grays between the area of familiarity
The ease with how our thighs touch
You learned me like I know you
A gentle understanding
Unspoken conversations
Just you and me
>
Your presence quenches my anxiety
An antidote to the venomous revolving sentences
That lace together with the quickening of my heartbeat
My body set aflame and breath hitches
But with you, fight or flight disappears
With you, I melt into the core of your being
Inebriated by the gentle nature of your voice
Your soft touch, sarcasm, and humor
Remedies my brooding no matter how inappropriate
Because my calm is patient to your whining
And when we lapse to the point of the end
Of nothing else that can be said
We sit quietly with shy smiles
Such unfamiliarity in sudden moments
But I stay grounded in the electricity
And I know it’s fine
It’s okay because
>
The silence between us breathes naturally
About the Creator
Esmoore Shurpit
I like writing bad stories.
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Reaching Out
I promise her. I'd do anything for her. She's my mom. Even as Lanie and Deanna are flying home, Mom is scrappy fighting dying. She lays too still in that too-big bed with all the toasty white hospital blankets, in the south tower, at the broad end of a long slow-turning corner that delivers me again to her private room with the view she can't see through, with the beeping that tells us nothing new, and all these ice chips she can't swallow, and a flood of well-intentioned nurses who cannot do a damned thing all the same.
By Christy Munson4 days ago in Fiction
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