you told me:

“i once watched you

sleeping naked in my bed,

curled up and limp,

and i knew

that everything else was bullshit.”

i told you:

“it’s so hard to stay alive these days

or sane,

so let me sleep

while you guard me from it all.”

you told me,

shaken and irritated:

“being in love with you is agonizing,

‘cause one day you’ll stop breathing,

and i already think you’re dying

when you lie there so soundly—

but then you smile (thank fuck)”

and you whisper:

“what are you dreaming about, baby?

tell me if the word ‘soul’

still means anything.”

i slept

because i didn’t have an answer for you,

nor will i ever.

that’s when i learned that

silence is a priceless gift.