playing house

So many secrets we share,
Groomed by glances and soft,
Small smiles.
Tucked deep away, hidden by our
Vocabulary of weak knees, quick nods and
rosy cheeks,
How I wish I had a lover whom never had to hear me speak.
Who’s kisses, not unlike a sunrise call for
Drapes to be drawn,
Who’s eyes invoke chapters, inspire stanzas
But read only mine.
While heavens glands may soak into the sea to breathe,
As I glance, she reads
My Dear, after me.