the sound of waiting

wouldn't it have been better if we hadn't ever spoken
never had to hear
or ever had to say
or ever had to listen

to
never have been sure
to
have
gone on pretending
that the longing
that lovely wanting
in us
through and through
would, could and should
ever be remedied
by the simple
sound
of
i
love
you

because now that its
been spoken
once
twice
maybe even
a third time

spoken in
all different voices
maybe even
in different countries
different tongues
uttered from various mouths
with various facial hair


now that the wait
for the once perfect uttering
of those once perfect words
a set of perfect letters
strung together to
form that perfect sentence

now that you've heard them said
like you've hear it be said
that it calls for rain this weekend
or that it has been an exceptionally warm autumn

or any other words muttered in a straight line
any other passing thought
what could possibly ever hold as much mystery

what words could ever have as much weight

could ever mean
to us again

could have
as sweet a wait
as the mouth from
which it is spoken

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