black ribbon

She keeps a lock of hair in her locket,
a small sanctuary.
I used to think it strange,
but now it's familiar,
Dependable
was a taboo word for her.
She played indifferent towards my warmth,
but my slight sway away,
And terror filled her eyes,
Words
are an art for her.
She won't admit to being the Absolute Best
on debate team, her tongue is modest,
but i taught her to voice adoration,
Love
is different for everyone.
It slowly crept up on me.
That's what she said, too,
after Our Start, that day, moment,
Picture
her braiding my hair like the french,
cross-legged behind me.
I was biting my tongue,
but I stopped to swallow and randomly,
Impulsively
told her I loved her, and her hands didn't falter.
She tied the braid with a black ribbon
and kissed the back of my neck
where people think the spine ends.
We know better.
We know all.