Unspoken

In the midst of the frantic
And fraught
Holiday season,
He struggled to grasp
A sense of calm
And peace
And gratitude.

The pressures of his work
Were no less…
Perhaps,
More.

Adding to that stress potion…
The madness of fighting crowds,
The “me first” traffic,
The overflowing schedule
Of holiday functions,
And commitments,

Made him long for solitude,

Filling him,
With an overwhelming
Sense of distance,

Detached…

Void.

And then after a particularly
Bad day at work,
Finally home,
Where he wanted
Desperately
To simply vanish…

He saw her…

Then he saw her smile.

Energy,
Beauty,
Refined grace,
Silky sensuality…

Everything that years before,
Left him no option
But to fall
Hopelessly in love
With her,

Presented themselves to him,
Again,
Now…

On this barren,
Cold December night.

The embrace that followed,
Felt both familiar,
Fresh,
And boundless.

Her kiss…
One of thousands
She gifted to him
Over the preceding years
Was no less sensuous…
Moist,
And delicious,

As that first kiss…
On their very first date.

Nothing needed to be said.

She could sense his pain
And anguish.

She could feel his heart beat
In desolation
Needing her healing…

And without saying a word,
She helped him understand,
And reflect,
And center his thoughts
On what was truly important…

Their togetherness.

She helped him recognize
The tranquility of this moment,
And that now,
For them…
Was forever.

This….

This is was what healed him that night.

It was the pure potency

Of love’s words…

Conveyed by the eyes,

Conveyed by the heart…

All…

Unspoken.

 

 

© 2017 W. C. Stacia, Jr.

 

 

 

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