when we were young

there are things
unsaid, that need
to be said, and yet
won't be spoken.
that is the way
of this world.
silence is cruel
like that. it
only deepens what
isn't, stills
the water, clears
the sky to unveil
the awful white
of a new moon.
and the years will
pass, and what was
will fade over
time almost as if
nothing had ever
happened. and i will
age, as will you,
and our lives
will end apart
in separate rooms,
with only the
memory of a sweet
kiss under the warm
and brilliant
summer moon.