THREE AND SIX AND FIVE
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322/ of hearing (Part of the series “On the sudden occurrence of loss / and the vast recovery within a second.)

There are days we don’t hear each other very well and there are days when we simply don’t listen. I am used to the depth of silences, the wordless comfort in nods and gazes sent wistfully from across a room. You, you are a clatter of praise, a clamouring for attention resounding like the days we’ve agreed not to count but have counted anyway.

When I think of you, I hear the happiness of childhood. You are the memory of playground songs and eager footsteps running down the stairs.

With the slowest and softest motion of your hands, you uncover my ears. With you, there is always music. With you, I forget how to write but only to remember how to speak.

Posted 6 months ago with 37 notes
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