The Quiet Between Us
It’s the way you turn your head
when you’re listening but don’t want me to know —
like you’re holding onto my words,
keeping them close for later,
when the silence settles between us again.
Love isn’t always loud,
it’s the soft shuffle of feet in the kitchen,
your hand finding mine without looking,
or the way we laugh at something
that wouldn’t be funny to anyone else.
I used to think love had to be grand —
fireworks and sunrises,
but now I know it’s more like
the hum of the refrigerator,
always there, barely noticed,
but keeping everything we need, fresh and alive.
Sometimes I forget to tell you things,
like how I love the way you leave the window cracked
even when it’s cold,
just because you know I like the sound
of the rain tapping at the glass.
We don’t talk about love much,
but it’s there in every little thing
we never say.
