Obsessions are collected by 

you like a sea glass at the beach

their smooth to touch edges make 

             bright pointy sounds 

                          when 

you fidget and sort them

            on the palm of your hand.

Sighs are as deep as the breath of the ocean,

low growl, almost undetectable if 

            I am not paying attention.

Some words are vacant, hollow, unfilled, but

            emptiness feels good 

                         on occasion.

The noise of your mental images

transformed into a string of words

            is strangely tranquil.

Fluctuations of the tempo of your voice are 

           subtle

                      illusive. 

                                    Deceptive?

Keep telling me the story but at last

          release me 

                      into the quiet whisper 

                                   and embrace of silence.

Castles made with words unspoken 

might not withstand the next tide. 

But let it pile up,

            sink in, store up,

                    be remembered, 

                                   cherished.