The Silence of Us

From "I love you,"

I plucked the love—

left only two bare syllables:

I and You,

trembling in the hollow.

Why let syllables fence in the infinite?

Now, the space between us

is a temple of quiet—

stretching, endless.

Extend your hand.

Let your fingers brush mine—

a spark where language ends.

Even the void will blush,

unravel into constellations.

I refuse to carve love into the wind,

nor let it rust in your throat.

This silence, this unsung hymn—

isn’t this how roots cling to earth?

How stars name themselves?

Love needs no tongue, only pulse

of two shadows merging into one light.

You: a mountain rooted in my horizon.

Me: the sky cradling your silence.