Are you listening?
The tap on the wall,
the pen nib’s scratch
on the paper here now,
anything I’ve said at all.
I long for you here:
deprived of nuance,
the surface stripped bare,
blood pools on my tongue;
your ache pulses near.
So with careful charm
each syllable descends
along its tensile thread
to drop these whispers
seductively in your ear:
come to me again;
join my life again.
Let me hear your voice
float like my fingers
across your skin.
(January 19, 2015)
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