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Sometimes,

I want to ring you up

Tell you, how much love -

Still resides in the bowels of my heart;

Even if no longer in that way –

Since, either someone beat me to the scene,

And ringed you with some shiny rock, ahead of my laxity,

Or that you are no longer taken by,

The fancies of romance and their intimate plays

 

I want to pick up the phone:

Playfully tease and toy with you -

Like a cat does with a ball of thread,

Or a predator with secured prey ahead of dinner;

Mischievously have you narrate,

How high I get you with every button pressed right,

Every string strummed to desired tune;

Or how low you get, when we’re not in contact -

For what seems eon, upon eon, upon eon!

Initiate that most awkward pause,

Momentary silence of knowing concord,

Only broken up by, rip-roaring laughter

Stolen from your ribs, by stupid jokes suddenly cracked!

 

I want to confess

That inspite of myself,

I am meeker than a lamb – or gentler;

That I find solace -

In the palpably soft energy, you exude-

And I long for the tenderness of your pillowy chest,

A dear shoulder, the tranquil of your eyes

 

Lament, audibly, of the cancerous nibble

Mincing at my insides, insidiously stealing my sanity -

As I rue letting the sand grains slip from an otherwise tough grasp;

That I am a shambles on lonely hours;

And that, the oh-so-brilliant-sounding, but sorrily soppy poetry,

Is inadequate sop to the conscience

 

I rue! I rue! I rue!

But never pick up to gush like a broken dam.

Rather, I revel in the TIP! TIP! TIP! Tone

Of a dripping kitchen tap:

The soothing rhythm of calm 

©The Orator 2013
Last modified on
Tagged in: calm confess rhythm
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