Familiar Language

His was a familiar language,  

one my soul caressed
with a knowing mind.

His mumbling tongue
cursing the house of cards
he had built with Aces in mind...

watching it domino
one piece at a time
to its feat,

was a time my ears
bled the pain he held to his chest

filling two glasses with wine,
cradling his fears

and soothing them with
the caress of my fingertips,

holding his shaking hands
and his thrashing soul
in my arms,

letting all that ales him
cohearse through my veins

leaving me as any drug
would leave the hopelessly addicted.

And I was the hopeless,
the unspoken expectations
pierce his eyes whenever he
rose his face to clash with
the begging blues of my irises.

Hours would be spent
in the hold of our longings,
as our hearts braced ourselves
for a foreseen parting.

He would drown himself
in the breasts of stranger women

as their tongues flicked
in foreign language
and their bodies..

hopelessly attempted
to catch the rhythm
of his stare.

I would be standing there
watching nothing,

but knowing he was somewhere
drinking to forget the sound of
my whispering in his ears.

At the height of things I feared
was the knowledge I'd lose him
at the sound of my own voice
pushing him away....

But oh how my heart broke
and my soul ached for...

parts of him to always stay....