Whispers of Twilight

We sleep inside the same old bed,

but somewhere in between us lies a silence

that neither one of us has said

– so soft, so heavy,

so defiant. I know the rhythm of your breath,

the light inside your eyes each morning,

but something slipped away from us

without a sign, without a warning.

When the closeness stays and the passion goes,

when you hold on tight but the distance grows,

when the silence says what we can’t speak – what remains when

longing starts to ask what we seek?

What remains when longing starts to seek.

I hold my tongue because I love you.

I hold my tongue so you won’t break.

But every night that passes through us

takes something that I can’t replace.

Somewhere out there someone carries the same unspoken weight as me

– the thing that faded without reason,

the want that no one else can see.

When the closeness stays and the passion goes,

when you hold on tight but the distance grows,

when the silence says what we can’t speak – what remains when

longing starts to ask what we seek?

What remains when longing starts to seek.

I don’t want to leave.

I don’t want to stay the way I am.

I only

want to say it once – I miss you.

Even though you’re here.

Even though you’re here.

I’m still alive. I

still feel. I still want.

Is that too much to ask?

The years have settled soft upon us like snow that makes the

world grow still. What once burned bright may glow again – if

someone asks before it will.

I’m not afraid to say I need you.

I’m not too proud to let you know.

I’ve just been quiet out of love – and love comes with

a price, I know.

When the closeness stays and the passion weeps,

when you love someone but the longing creeps,

when the silence drowns out everything

– tell me if you know what remains when longing starts to

sing.

I’m still here.

I’m still alive.

That needed to be said.