(Rawr. "sall good")

The night is silent.

Like someone had muffled it with a gloved hand.

The stars were faint in my little suburban city home.

I lay on my deck, enjoying the spring night air, the softness of his hoodie on my back on shoulders.

The wind stirs my hair into my eyes, causing a brief, but pleasurable pain.

I can feel his eyes on me from the corner.

Watching me like he has for the past two hours.

My watch beeps three AM, and we both snap from our daze.

I look at him, I can tell he’s trying to figure out what I’m thinking, though my eyes.

Suddenly the world springs to life around us, and we hear everything.

The hum of traffic on the road, and the rustle of new leaves in the trees.

Even the aeroplane from Australia flying over my house.

But we don’t break our stare.

The night is no longer silent.

But it’s still beautiful.