if i never spoke again,
i'd love the silence
slipping softly between id
and impulse
wordless and in motion.

if i never spoke again,
i'd only see your face
confined inso little space between
memories and the
potency of thought
guiltless and smiling.

we weave in and out of sight
under landmines,
through thought processes
lost and alone,
and before you awake
you'll see me standing
lightly on the insides of your eyelids
trying to reassemble
all the pieces that fell
(scattered, confused)
when you shut the door and
followed me home.
i'd never speak again.