mingling with the body of wordlessness

Do you write only to deepen the ache?
No.
Then why?
Until this starving touch— 
leaves my body ravaged, 
until my heart finds its peace,
until all of me, complete, finds you—
exactly that long I keep writing.

Why don't you sleep?
If I sleep, who will witness 
your serene face, your quiet pulse?

Why aren't you wild with love?
Because I'll burn in your neglect.

Why do you touch me and weep in silence?
Because I can feel your love.

What if I told you I was dying?
Because I want to keep your last breath in my chest.