for 13 months
i loved you
more than my voice would ever allow me to describe
and so it seemed
to me
that to live in silence
for 13 months
after we parted
was both slavery and freedom at once
but most certainly it was atonement
for the crimes we commited against each others hearts
all the while shouting out the word love
as if it were an excuse for all wrongs
(and could somehow right them)

my silence was also a celebration
of all the laughter that spilled out of our mouths so freely
and all of the meaningless songs that we gave meaning to
for the way we danced together
and the words we spoke that no one understood
besides the two of us
(going nowhere)
and for the times that we shined like silver in the sun

my silence was mourning
for the way our bodies wrapped around each other like braided rope
but would no longer
and for the times that my touch
had a voice louder
(and more capable)
than any words i could have uttered
and for the moments when i was sure
and
niether of us had to speak
for 13 months

so i thought
that if my voice was not heard by anyone but me
if my thoughts rattled around in my mind like ice cubes clicking against an empty glass
then i could not speak the words describing my love or my pain
and therefore
i would hurt no one
and no one would slip in through my throat
(which is far too close to my heart)
and i believed
that inside of me and without sound
the world would be as beautiful as i could imagine it to be
there would be no declarations or protests or howling tears
everything would be
unspoken
for 13 months