All that my heart used to know
is to stay silent.
It had no voice until I met you—
it always just held its words in
and never learned to speak.
So I hid it willingly,
I let it sleep and stay invisible,
let it remain forgotten
for a long, long time.
Then you came
and roused it slowly,
ever so slowly,
from its slumber.
Prodded and coaxed it
until my heart learned
enough words to write
a novel.
Now,
here,
it aches.
It aches in the loveliest way.
