Love Letter

There is a way you look at me. I sometimes wonder if this ship we’re sailing is daringly keeled toward such exciting raw currents of passion without temperance from the calming drift of a gentle night to balance our journey.

It’s true.  We don’t talk very much.  Yes, we text. And, it’s not that we don’t talk at all – there are discussions about pasts and presents and families and careers. But it is sometimes alarming to realize that I know you best from our silent exchanges.  I know you through instinct. Through touch and scent and taste and feel. Though it may not be with words, we communicate mountains when our eyes meet for long, soulful, deep conversations.

The way you look at me renders me speechless without taking away my words, but by shining the light on just how inadequate they really are.

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