iloveyou

iloveyou

Simple strokes, letters so tight together, just about to squeeze out a nonexistent syllable, and then I utter a smile in these words that are so cold that you might try to blanket them with a silent cry of your truth. Sounds that don’t move but relax with each turning of a note.  It’s a girl’s—it’s a boy’s—I wish I can make out the voice of this instrumental piece. I was a catalog of taped up words, a note under your pillow, something unsaid but these letters, these words were snuggled too comfortable for me to say them out loud. And then I pronounce these scrunched up words that are so melodic—yet devious that you might try to keep the melody playing by saying it back to me. And you did. These were the sounds that were sickening to just write on the wall. You taught me this native language, and now that I speak it I can’t stop saying these simplistic words. And I can’t- I really can’t. And I won’t-I really won’t. I learned no rhymes, no songs, but the strumming notes in my heart. I thought they were cold, but you hugged these words by stroking them like they were yours.