Existing 

in this place 

like it was an art form

day by day 

nothing would change

but years would pass

and nothing was the same

condescending 

was his tone 

when he would speak to me

but I still liked the sound of his voice

playing with fire

was much more fun

than patiently waiting

for the ice to freeze

I loved him quietly

never shouted it from a rooftop

or showed up at his work

there was never a need 

for kissing in public 

oh yes, my love was quiet

but he was always close enough 

to hear it