Are you okay with silence?
Because sometimes forest secrets are more comforting than anything
either of us could say
Sometimes I like to write four lines
and turn the page before going on
Like a breath between sentences
I like having plenty of room to think
Otherwise, my thoughts start building skyscrapers
with leaky faucets and tenants with too much to talk about
My thoughts need real estate plenty
With room to sprawl
and fail without being placed on suicide watch
Give me a canvas and I’ll show you what twenty percent looks like
Say only what you need
I’ll do the same
and we can sleep on a bed of all our silent whispers.
Branches