143. Show and Tell

My fingers inscribed holy words for you,

As you drove 100 miles to claim taboo.

With whispers too quiet for the wall's ears,

You strut yourself as if you knew no fears.

I let limerence slip through the grapevine,

With each gift you impart in kind.

But storybooks can only breathe so well,

You pleaded me to show, not tell.

I searched my mirror to find why you left,

Not noticing I long ago became deaf.