Post Script: NPM: From My Lips to Your Heart (Poem 8)

My voice is a thunderstorm. The words –

pillars balanced for a millisecond

on the cusp of my lips, waiting

to topple over into your ear.

 

It becomes a tempest coiling

like ensnared vapor in a mirror.

Its pledge binds your heart –

promises of us, everlasting.

 

Now it trembles and quakes

like suppressed magma,

unable to express the seething ecstasy

that beats through my vena

at the thought of you.

3 thoughts on “Post Script: NPM: From My Lips to Your Heart (Poem 8)

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