The Balcony

We traded kisses on the balcony,
Gazing into the eyes of the other.
"Hello," the voice sounds like mine,
Secretively creeping into my own ears.
I did not speak.

"Hello," finally the words released
From the wretched chamber I kept them.
I smiled, with a quirky smirk,
Nervous but safe and no longer perspiring,
I was happy.

"The world is yours." I looked out.
The horizon seemed endless, clouds puffed,
Trees dancing melodically to the silence,
Wind gently tickling my lips, delicate.
The waves crashed.

Again the voice was like mine,
A smooth, calming voice with no cracks
Or faults, a symphony of words orchestrated,
Gently they comforted my heart.
Yet, I did not speak.

"The world is yours." I turned and said,
Softly at first but gradually gaining confidence
As the "yours" was emphasized with conviction,
Never was my soul as so red with love,
I was happy.

We shared looks over the balcony,
Wooden frame holding us above the jagged cliff,
Hands firmly clasped. Never to be torn apart.
I looked behind us, my empty house. I cried.
The waves crashed.