Words are not your way
of paving the eroded path to my heart,
if anything, you’re limited to “okay”
but your okay weighs more than an inscription in gold ,
more than a stone epitaph,
you see, the worth of your words is met only
in your repeated, all encompassing phase
that tells of your love for me.
So if you don’t mind,
(in poems and prose,) I’ll speak for the both of us,
you stick to your multi-layered phrases of love
and in return,
if you could feel for me,
we’d be balanced and even
on the teetering beam of expression.