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.