Words

I could stare at these blank pages all day
waiting for your words to fill the void. 
Waiting for the relief from isolated torture
that comes from being wrapped 
in your warm, blanket sentences. 
Each word like a spring bird, chirpy 
and smile inducing. Dancing in flight
around the skies of my thoughts. 
How I love to see them, to hear them. 
How I wait, each cold roosting night, 
for dawn’s break and the gentle chirrup
of verbose cherubs. 

I wonder how your lips feel 
as you speak, and those beautiful words
pass between them, effortlessly. 
Like a gentle, summer breeze 
escaping your mouth, 
carrying the enrapturing fragrance
of freshly cut grass. 
I wonder, if I pressed my lips against yours, 
would those words mean more?
Would I hear them louder, and clearer? 
Would I understand you better? 

Could our tongues, intertwined, 
in a turbulent storm of spittle, 
and passion, 
give rise to new levels of understanding
for the words that roll off them. 
The amalgam of two tongues, 
providing unity in thought.