As I lay with my love, feeling with my fingertips the warmth of his bones beneath his skin and caressing with my lips the invisible lines of his face, I thought of a poem. If I had opened my mouth and let the words fall from my tongue, this is what my love would have heard:
I don’t want you to be simply my first.
I don’t want you just for a season.
Be my last. Be my forever.
I have opened my heart to you, and only you.
Hold it, and it will soften and bloom in your hands.
Drop it, and it will shatter as a hardened windblown rose shatters on the rocks by the sea.
Guard my heart as only you can.
Guard it as I cannot.
But joy and fear and peace silenced me, and instead of speaking I opened my lips to the lips of my love and let him taste on my tongue the words I did not have to say.
© J. Grace, 2015