s:

\ ˈsmī(-ə)l \

we don’t fall

dreaming the way your lips touched my lips in a kiss,
praying for all our dreams as they built what we wish

basket of angry and mute kittens

silence speaks nothing — To be consumed by words until they come stumbling out, arranged and resonant, unwilling to bow to the closure of strict lips. What is that? Where is it– I’ve written copies, and rallies, and letters YET none of the words that reside in me have my heart, and I’m— Scared. SCARED…