Love in Shorthand

Tarrant Smith
Aug 7, 2019 · 1 min read
Photo by Pablo Heimplatz on Unsplash

Speak to me in fragments —
of joys revisited with a repeated phrase,
and memories distilled into a single word.

“Which story is this?” you ask.
“Number 213,” is my ready reply—
and you smile instantly, a mirror of my own.

How long ago did I begin to mark
the tales of our shared life,
and count their retelling?

Talk to me in phrases
of familiar moments tenderly summoned —
a private language all our own.

French fry is for your teasing I never let go,
as we text kiss to each other yet again so that
caressing hands and hearts may touch from a distance.

“Tain!” holds all the wonder of parenthood,
while giggles piggyback on Mr. Squirrel’s indecision
and painting in my ball gown — is but a sigh from you.

Whisper to me in code and
nonsensical references of mutual secrets kept,
And I will respond in kind, my love.

For they are endearing touchstones
that illuminate the journey of us,
two lovers fated— and yet 98 is why we stay.

Literally Literary

Tarrant Smith

Written by

Kitchen Witch, Wife, Mother, and Indie Author of two paranormal romance series.

Literally Literary

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