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.

Related articles

• Post Script: NPM: Navy Roses (Poem 7) (saytaina.com)
• Post Script: NPM: I will never hold you (Poem 5) (saytaina.com)
• Post Script: NPM: April Spray (Poem 4) (saytaina.com)