she wonders what the words sound like when they are spoken with flower petals and incense, however all she hears are knives carving names into trees. knives marking territory.
she wants to hear the words spoken with a whisper of the waves hitting the shore, however all she hears are gusts of wind. oceans battering against rocks.
she wants to know a touch like the caress of the sun’s rays on a warm summers day, however all she feels is the cold air of the night. a frost settling between her toes.
she wants heightened senses and captured hearts.
she wants loose sheets and delicate skin.
but she gives a stone and she’s given a house, she’s given a house and all she gives is a smile.
if words longed for cannot be spoken, how can they be heard?