We are followed by the lack of complete silence, life interrupted by the dull crackle of voices through television static and the flickering of phosphorescent lights on your skin.

Often we lie there, drowsy in moments of
warmth and comfort,
my head rising steadily with the
breath in your chest while your arms encircle,
hands finding the goosebumps on my hips
and reading my body like Braille.

These bodies of ours rest, but my mind remains tumultuous
with words that detach from thoughts
and tumble without warning to my lips;
words choked back, unspoken,
lost in the translation of tremors and shifting sighs
devoured by our bellies, always empty,
gnawing and growling in our ears and beneath our hands.

Maybe we aren't the ones to pacify.