i press my face down into the sheets...
the sound of your voice, languidly naked
scribbles, scratches and marks my silence.
i listen to you straining my body to remember each word. i will want to play those words over and again in my head. maybe repeating them will make them come true. maybe repeating them will take away their sharpness. maybe repeating them i will understand the subtexts, the emphasis...all those little meanings which hide behind words, maybe those will all come to me then, for right now i only hear the sound of tears restrained in your voice and am unable to hear anything else.