I like you quiet because it's as if you are absent
I like it when you’re quiet, it’s as if you weren’t here now, and you heard me from a distance, and my voice couldn’t reach you. It’s as if your eyes had flown away from you, and as if your mouth were closed because I leaned to kiss you. Just as all living things are filled with my soul, you emerge from all living things filled with the soul of me. It’s as if, a butterfly in dreams, you were my soul, and as if you were the soul’s word, melancholy. I like it when you’re quiet. It’s as if you’d gone away now. And you’d become the keening, the butterfly’s insistence. And you heard me from a distance and my voice didn’t reach you: it’s then that what I want is to be quiet with your silence. It’s then that what I want is to speak to your silence in a speech as clear as lamplight, as plain as a gold ring. You are quiet like the night, and like the night you’re star-lit. Your silences are star-like, they’re a distant and a simple thing. I like it when y