Implicit

My fist clenched to crumple a hand
In the form of a letter written with sand
That falls gracelessly through fingers
But your presence insists to linger

"It's not your place", it said,
"I can't give you a chance", I read,
But my clenching muscles with-hold,
With those words, "you had me sold"

A misshapen figure presents
And my fist meets it in force,
It is the nothing I resent some
Simpleton thought mixed with silk so coarse

A beach of words
Poured through worlds between
My fingers while they dawdle
Incessantly in herds

My clenched fists render
Grains of a colloquy useless
In silence you succeed
To tear this paper asunder

Words melt and
We stand where gulls dine
And realize I was "implicit",
To open my fist and find your hand in mine