A letter to a friend

Words that form from deep within
She understands though I’ve never spoken a word
I have never heard her voice nor she mine
But she knows how space is never ending
An open wound that never bleeds but weeps just the same
She knows words can echo on a page
And that the hollows are filled with feelings
Of fragmented words trying to pull together
The language of the disentangled
Who are still in knots
She knows soft caresses that are meant to bruise
The sweet nothings
Consuming the waking hours
And that the birds will sing
As dawn breaks on a new day
And we will both breathe
Knowing

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