Like air from your lungs,
your breath s t r e a m e d out in a river.
A flood of words we couldnt speak.
The air was still. The wind had halted in its outpour of secrets, spilling silence as a substitute into the dark. Your breath painted pictures against a black canvas, arching around and twisting into beauty.
We stuttered and started, once, twice, three times over and over, unable to grasp the intricacies of a language which wed so carelessly discarded in our pride. For once upon a time, wed needed no words. The silence had been filled with all our I love you, I want you, I need yous, caressing our skin, keeping us warm even in the dead of winter.
Now it was stale and stagnant, empty of promises.
Wed run out of things to say.
I turn to face you, but your eyes are looking away, gazing into the deep. The dim light of the lanterns barely illuminates your silhouette. Statue-like you gaze, and my eyes trace the lines of your f