Silence in the dead of night...

Even in the silence that hangs in the deepest night there are sounds that shape a place. The bones of the earth, of this house, and of this bed groan and creak in their own unique and mysterious tongues. The furnace coming alive - motor, air, heat... the tick of expanding metal. The sound of the fridge turning off with a rattle.

I turn in my bed, my own bones making their unique sounds - the knees and elbows and shoulders creak or crack. The sheets whisper against my bare skin and remind me of the warmth they hold. My breath is an even rhythm... my heart beat more felt than heard...

I lay in my bed, listening to the silence of this place,  and cannot help but think of you... I imagine the silences that surround you. I wonder if your sheets whisper with the same voice against your skin. Is the sound of your own breath familiar and foreign to you? 

I can imagine the sounds of you... hear you turn in the dark, drawing a leg up to cradle... A sigh... The rhythm of your heartbeat..

I imagine the sounds of you in this place with me... I listen to the sounds of your silence.