we waited
patience
letters we wrote, locked love to the future
one day, they’ll pick open the shackles of our tune
will it move you?
will you know the words to a song sung in midnight pants, over shoulders
before
a final “good night”
“good night”
a foreign language, we conceived
they’ll peel envelopes open, unfold paper, read between lines, pen marks indecipherable
code
red
passion
fed
reality
lost
during closed-eyed moments
warding off discussion
interpretive movements
our emotions pressed firm, smudged blue
a clue to the few
who also grew
entwined to another
acceptance, unnecessary
confirmation, blasphemy
it’s ours