Another very ruff draft (from poem started in workshop)
My beloved
I chose your voice for its sweetness
& like syrup, u slither into my sleep
with your voice of tin & plastic reed.
You keep calling my name
with a warmth of fateless sunrise
with a twist of lime in tequila
with a flake of cocoa on the tongue
You keep calling with a tireless tender persistence
urging me to wrap my fingers around you
& caress your nub till your breath chokes
& you are silent
still humming
under my fingers
you are electric
& begging
me to press my lips
Without you,
I have no ears,
without you,
no voice,
without you,
I am less than nothing.
You keep calling my name
I bear you but only just,
even when I sting beneath the weight
of your voice
carries across oceans
swifter than the sun’s first rays at dawn
You call my name & I cannot run
You call again.
Without you, I am dumb
& no philtre can restore my voice.
I die without you
& my thumbs turn to wood
& my lips to stone.

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