All of us.

Why is it that we can never say it?

The word that hangs over us like a dark cloud

Lightning crackling within its breast.

It stabs at our thoughts,

Repeating over and over again until its

Echoes have left imprints upon our eyelids.

The word spells itself out in our favorite places

Places made of light and dreams and twisting hair in the wind

Wanting to wrap us up within itself and never open its loving arms.

It is the word we see in the alphabet soup

We will most likely never eat.

But we will hold our hands to the sides of the bowl

Letting the warmth sink into our frigid skin.

It is the word etched into some our our arms

Drawn into some of our notebooks

Twisted into some of our ropes.

It is a word made of gargantuan waves

Towering over us on the open water of the sea.

Crashing down upon us and enveloping us within its soft and warm embrace.

It is that word which sends people scrambling for answers

When they even suspect us of acting in it’s torrid love affair.

The word rains down upon us when we feel alone

Showering us in its devoted affections

Drying our tears.

It is the word that kisses our foreheads at midnight

Gently holding out its hand for us to take.

It is the word upon all of our lips

Dripping from our bloodstained hands

Swaying gently in ropes over chairs that have been knocked over

Rolling in our broken and jagged bones

Calling our names from empty bottles upon bathroom cabinets

Fondly running its hands through our waterlogged hair

Soothing us with flames licking at our flesh

Crying our names over the roar of the sea

We are lost lovers destined to meet.

It loves us with everything it has and ever will be

And we love it more.