A Stone

My thoughts linger
like the smoke in this room.
They dress themselves in familiar
shapes like apparitions,
and though they never speak;
their intentions are always know.
It's in these vague states of remission
that we connect as people.
Your quiet candor always implied
a depth;
a sense of density that I know now
was just a ploy.
But in youth,
silence always seemed like a form of revolution.
But all you were revolted against
was your longing to open up to me,
and when you love a stone they take
the shape of everything you've been
yearning for.
I know the day he left he took your heart
with him like a prize;
a charm or lucky rabbits foot.
But every night as we lay,
my chest to your back;
I hope a new heart begins to grow.
I hope that vacant cavern fills anew,
and that my heart will teach yours
how to beat again.