Poem: The Silence of Sacred Lips.


I’ve grown dumb,

I’ve grown weary,

I’ve grown listless against

the assault of your new found language—

your vernacular of love,

your dialect of wistful passion.

And lacking the tongue,

the ears to fathom

the form—

the diction of your gestured speech

I seek to build a vacuum;

a medium—

from which, in the absence of noise,

I may hold the silence of your sacred lips.


2 thoughts on “Poem: The Silence of Sacred Lips.

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