We wrote books on each other; a library of them. If our bodies could speak, what would they have to say? And what of the stories, and the songs we both made? A one-time experience? From beginning to end?
We recited full tales; our dreams were expressed. But the words got all tangled; and we couldn\'t connect. I guess they were soundless, verses filled with no shame. Deeper feelings unspoken, and emotions restrained.
We soaked up the excitement. Did we do this ourselves? Did we fail to stay open, and left things unexpressed? Now I stare at this page; trying hard to forget. I could write a sonnet; but the phrase wouldn\'t help!