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