Like river after a storm,
the stubborn drums of my heart,
my frantic mind,
and the liquid notes
of your name
in crescendo
through my eyes.
Like a feathered echo
with muscular wings,
stronger in every flap,
rebellious against the winds,
in denial of the north,
love-blind in my speech,
our book, our story, our ifs,
the foolishness of it all.
Louder than any word
or any verb,
in my pupils, in my throat,
in my bare hands,
the unavoidable shrill of your silence,
so resolute, yet in tremor.
Just like any other end
in perfect rapture,
no reason, just nothing
and everything...
A concealed universe,
an open gate,
a long trail with
no sense of direction.
And the boldness of it all.
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