The noise is piercing when he isn't there.
The thoughts and worries juggle around like a poorly rehearsed circus act.
Of what the thoughts might say if he were to leave.
Like a breath that stops a sentence,
It is silence.
His arms are the warmth that melts doubt.
His kiss is the first day of spring.
Just for a minute
The white room is empty and the thoughts
I've got all the love
I have ever dreamt to find
When I have him on my find.