I like your words.
I admire your sentences.
There’s something about the spaces between your syllables that tell a better story.
Punctuating our phrases and pirouetting our phases with fist pumps and fairy tales.
Run-on’s of passion that write-off the past.
Deleting the doubts that darken our elegantly drafted dreams.

I could listen to you speak for hours.
Study your slang for days.
Read in-between your lines for the rest of my life.

I want to stay here; buried in this conversation.
Burning in this heated exchange.
Lying awake with my hands on my questions and my eyes on your answers.
Inventing a new vocabulary for this feeling I’m feeling.
Defining our own terms and designing our own expressions.

Creating a deeper language.

But for now, I’ll hang…
Hover inside your pauses, and float behind your clauses.
Decorate my days with the handwritten, soft-spoken scent of your sounds.
I’ll stay here.
Suspended in belief.
Awake in my world, because I’m alive with your words.