A ghost of a word.

It’s not a word.

It’s in...his pressing, passionate kisses,

he never forgets before every

single time we part.

.....In the conversations

with long descriptions of his long days,

even when he’s oh so so tired.

....in the amount of hearts and placements of them he puts in his emoji texts.

....in the attention to what I like.

......in how he works so hard for so little. Just to keep the life he has, the life he thinks is worth it all.

It moves my mountains,

with just a little thing done, to prove it is alive, not a ghost of a word.

It’s not a word. ....So easily and often mistakenly, clumsily fallen from the tongue, to its death.

It’s hardly spoken, but so often proved.