I can use all five of my senses. Yet when it comes to pronouncing syllables and echoing sounds.
My lips are unable to utter the compounded multipliers of how my heart speaks in the solace shared by two.
See with every moment that I spend with my fingers gliding upon mobile text.
I virtually speak with ease. I am a poet. I am writing. Constantly as my heart pounds at the possibility of a negative answer.
That never comes. Surprisingly pushing me on. To scream. In silence. Can’t you hear me?
Maybe I am too silent.
As this hits so deep. Beyond Rivers and oceans. If you could for once. Just follow me. As we mutually receive the savory satiation Beneath our Beautifuls.
Unable to comprehend what I display in action returning gratification. Unable to muffle the sounds escaping. My lips. As stories are retold behind the moons blue lights bliss.
Losing my sense.
Never expected that with every brush and light touch of fingers hearing the momentary synchronization of bare souls. To speak in comforting poetry.
Thinking I was homeless yet somehow Where I Sleep. Momentarily. I am at home.
But I cannot speak.
I can hear it.
In the tone of your voice. And the embraces given. Within subliminals that I may overanalyze in musical selections specifically created. For these moments.
Unable to sleep as you invade subconsciously into dreams. Desires needing to be realities. Thoughts now becoming hopes.
I confuse myself as I cannot speak. As my heart’s pounding is too loud on every intent. That fails each time. Multiplying the rehearsals in my mind.
To fall...on deaf ears?
Have you listened to the roaring waters of my leaping into the depth of your sea? Without the worry of drowning.
And yet I suffocate within unspoken words flooding my conscious. How easily I returned to this floating dream.
I cannot make a sound. Feeling mad in mute. Unsure of the words I listen to, the actions I savor, the beauty I see, the unspoken display that I can feel.
At a loss for common sense. as I can only listen to you speak.
Reciting among sighs and heated discussions in braille. As the explicit melts into a safe haven amid snores and stolen blankets. How can I prevent it?
Words form on my lips that I wish I could transfer to your conscious.
Only in silence do you nurture the woman few have seen. undressed. do you see beyond the flesh given for your enjoyment? do you feel words come alive in the silence.
I relinquish my duties from saving the world. And for an evening the hero is you. Saving me from myself. Have you perceived it?
Yet gravely endangered in the vulnerability left wide open. Are you blind? As I am mute?
Uncontrollably running the world with my bulletproof shield until I collide with you.
Unknowingly we noticed love has been here before. Long ago before we met each other in this lifetime.
Yet I stand before you unsure of the continuation of recollections of what we shared. Unable to get vocal chords to function.
Do you still remember me?
I wish I could flat out explain what crosses my mind when I hear your name.
Maybe it is fear of repetition of when I have returned to the same place I left. Mum is the words that chokes me.
You wont let me go, but will you pull me into cultivation. Do I meet your expectations? Is this more than what my senses experience?
Rambling in midnight hour soliloquies-as I wish for only minutes of sleeping within your warmth. Do you too feel at home?
Unable to say welcome, for I worry that you, like others would leave just when I am willing to take that leap? And speak.
But I cannot. I know not how to begin. Lips go numb and and my mouth gets dry. My throat gets a lump and I cannot even try.
So I add pages to the previous loose leafs.
The Lost Pages begin with this rediscovered feeling.
Simply put-How do you love me?