Voice – A Poem

It’s often as not

what you say,

or sometimes

just the way

you say what you say,

that arrow-like

zings through Me.

Striking the wall

of my resistance

dissolving

into,

            into

an aromatic,

erotic,

ether

absorbed,

invasive

and pervading

all my sensory dimensions….

 

Your intonation

and the timbre of sounds

that escape from your throat

beguile Me so.

 

Listening,

like I listen.

Hearing

your lips move

and Seeing

the purity of white gleaming.

Seeing,

the seen,

not seen,

swell of  innocent baby pinkness

which undulates

as You form

letters and syllables,

vowels and consonants.

which translates into an elixir

that satisfies

yet further inflames my thirst.

 

Views shift.

Mental drifts.

As I attempt

to assess

the ideas and fancies

you so wish to convey

and I find myself

riveted on your grin.

 

Your grin.

A rapier,

sharp,

crescent moon

which slices to the core of Me.

 

More of Me attuned than this

I can not see…

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