Silence.

Silence is a friend of mine,

silver locks frame her face,

and she smiles - sometimes she doesn't - 

but anyone who smiles all the time can't be trusted.

Our first encounter was discouraging, 

her, the reaper of loneliness, in my eyes,

me, a raucous writhing of limbs, in hers. 

But now we sit on Saturdays

drinking tea and taking in the things we can't 

block out.