I’m embracing the unwritten
lines in between your quiet;
My hands, gentle enough to
inhabit you without breaking
the stillness.
Don’t express to me how it
feels,
but do close your eyes, and take
it all in as our time reveals.
Relax in my arms, as the
emergence of ink begins to show.
Word for word, stanzas in tow,
a tranquil poem—now flows.
Our margins are deep,
holding secrets our minds can’t
fathom to keep.
No whispers are needed
to measure the depth—
just the steady slow rhythm of
borrowed breath.
—JG ©2026

