Maybe we are happiest like this
Maybe we crave the drama
Of melancholy drawn-out days
When strains of our angry argument
Haunt the air,
But the screaming silence
Of unspoken words
Catches our breaths and stops our hearts.
When we linger so close to each other
That sweet stolen moment, extra second
That we spend pretending not to see each other
Pretending we don't want that touch,
That smile, that anger, that yell
When our eyes meet,
Pleading and dangerous; filled with hurt pride
Before we pull away
Swallowing desires
That sit like rocks at the bottom of our stomachs
Though we fight their existence,
Deny it so violently.
The truth waits
In the depths of our wounded hearts,
That tomorrow there will be that touch,
That smile, that anger, that yell.
And each other.