Lacquered in obscurity, forgotten tongue
less words that breathe no air, given no light
held close, forged in the mouth with iron lung,
tightness deep entered space that felt so right.

Not right, but easy to touch outside oneself
alone, no risk, no measure taken up,
speechlessness dries vacantly on the shelf
as if a flower withered black: tulip.

How happiness is found with other one
hearted people, conversation can be
liberating, molting skittish sun
beam nature, consistently calm at sea.

But said too light for silence is chasten,
pure, unmoving, not quicken to hasten.

Want to comment on this Poetry? Sign up to Edit Red and you will be able to comment on Poetry and get access to: Upload your own stories and poems, get readers and their feedback, promote your work...