Before, I was

drowning in silence.

Without you would be life without music.

Of all the things that move through me,

as the afternoon sunlight stretches over our bed

I give myself to you, taste my skin

like you do when our legs are tangled.

Our song comes to an end

You carry me to the water and I wait

for something more to come,

I stand naked,

not quite ready to wash away this day

I think about what kind of wood would I need to make a violin.

What about a boat to sail away in?

What about sheet music?

What if I capsize?

I hate to think of all those notes getting lost at sea.

Where does silence come from?