talk.

The very first time I heard your voice it burrowed in deep. I knew at that instant I needed more. It felt like a thorny tumbleweed rolling through me, getting caught up and tangled with my veins. There's this luscious timbre that vibrates all the little bones in my ears, sending shivers inside of me that go places I didn't even know existed. Dark and hidden, secret places. And the way you curl up some of your words with a slick slip of twang, lights this lovely little spark that smoothes over me every time. I could listen to you talk forever. I want to listen to you talk forever. Just let me lay here in the pitch blackness with my eyes closed while you tell me stories. You should sing to me, too, but talk to me in-between each song, please. I yearn for that timbre and curl, hypnotically twisting up all the frayed bits of me that only keep unraveling on their own. Your voice tames them and knits them seamlessly back together. Talk to me. Talk closer right next to me. Even closer still. Let me feel your breath and the warmth of you as you speak. Ruffle my skin with your words. Fill me up with them. Pile them on top of me one after the other like a heavy down comforter, cozy and calm and all at once at peace.