her heart is a dusty tome
waiting for you
to read it. her thoughts
are the tone poem
in the background
of your dreams.
her shadow contains
multitudes, strange sentences
in a foreign language
that you’ve never heard before,
whispering secrets
too soft to hear.
her silence speaks
with the susurrations
of the surf and the tides.
her darkness
calls to yours.
do you hear it?
R. Brookes McKenzie 