Talking To My Husband

In dulcet tones known just to me— (nonverbal, some would say), though delicate is not your speed, I hear what you can’t say. Consolation is to breathe. Allure means just to beg. Mirage is only what I see. Who’d pivot from your face? Today’s an anniversary? You’re with me every day. I’d favor flesh instead of this but death got in the way. January 31, 2019 Eight Word Anniversary Poetry Contest