I cannot know

if his love danced
in romantic tones
and heartfelt song

he has no language 
no words to describe
beyond survival
and necessity

the love he 
holds in his
worn and worried
heart -

I've had to sense it
uncover it
It had to be felt. 

I found meaning
outside of the 
literal interpretations
of abrupt speech
and long silences.

There were no
words used wastefully,
in spurts of 
emotional wind 

he uses no breath
excessively.

Perhaps romance
is for those
who have time.

He speaks of his first 
and last 
love
as if she 
was born of his
heart 

Inseparable 
intolerable
one and the same

it is confluence 
without 
codependence.

I had to learn love
in actions
in crinkled smiles
in lasting impacts of 
fleeting, fragile emotion.

Love existed because
they made it so
in ways permanent 
and necessary
as the food and drink
they offered freely.

In his recliner
next to her bed
they sleep
and will sleep

because rest escapes him
when she is not there.

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