Say something

When you speak, I listen.
I try to sort out
what you think of me by
searching in the blank spaces
between your words. I hold on tight
to sentences, pretending they're
you.

So rarely do the letters that
form my name
slide beautifully from your mouth, but
when they do, I hope you can
taste them, names should
always be
savored. This is why I
avoid yours, avoid exposing it to
our earthly elements, which would
surely destroy something so
ethereal.

When you speak, I listen.
I'm probably giving you more
credit than you deserve, but like
a sacred chant you hold the
power to entrance me, distract me from
what I can see and drive me to look
into myself, where I always
seem to find
you.