Truth Is Beauty: Ode to a Friend
…and the silence
becomes a part of us.
We’ve fed each other
out of a desperation to
be heard,
through a series of
back and forth
explitives said over
the phone.
Filling in the blanks
left us impaired.
…and the silence came
from a lack of words
for those things
our shortcomings destroyed.
Music is that thing
when one or more sounds
find the timing of the soul,
filling in the hollowness
like a Grecian urn.
*
making it
The soft flutter of lisped winks
bound by a morning ray
Lips whispering
“I love you’s” behind curtains
As lovers lie together
tongue tied
practicing French
Beauty is a narcissism
of minor differences
… as the conclusion is reconciled.