The Syntax of a look

They speak the unspoken,
translating the syntax of a look -
shy embarrassment
and a coy smile.
We who have grown old,
comfortable in our skins
having studied long in this class,
have forgotten the pressure of its first test - how thick the air becomes
when you are still learning the difference between yes and no.
​She offers her laugh to the invisible city all around her,
an unashamed note of trust
that he reads as permission.
A green light to carry on,
to let him pull her to him - not out of surrender,
but as the first test of her own borders,
discovering that she is the one
who keeps the control.
​He answers with a growing boldness,
the hands of a boy
learning the skills of a man,
breaking the code of her proximity.
Discovering that the world doesn't end at the touch
more; begins there.
​They are practicing the moves,
finding the boundaries
in a quiet rehearsal
staged in the open,
where the only thing that matters
is the heat left behind,
the understanding discovered
and the unwritten comfort created between them.

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