Ink on the Tongue

Words never spoken Still leave a taste Lingering Unwilling to leave Like ink Like salt Like rain held too long on stone The mouth remembers What the voice never learned A language older than sound Written in pauses Shadows gather Not to hide But to listen Pressing close without touching Lengua lenta Oscura y suave Un fuego sin prisa That warms without flame Memory brushes past Then returns As if unsure Where to settle The air thickens With things unnamed Promises never made Still fully kept Every silence deepens Every echo stays longer Ink dries slowly On the tongue of night