Her Heart

Her Heart


She thrums like a recalled memory,
warm against my chest,
a reassuring beat.
My eyes close, though it is night,
for I have no need of them,
no need at all;
heaven sparkles in her breath.
This is it, the truth, everything and more,
sensory conception made real;
I allow it to flood me
engulf every last atom
until I’m spinning on galaxies
and dancing on vermillion lights
the cosmos at my back
and universe in my perception.
She stirs, or purrs, or both;
electricity shoots through me
like a violent stroking by a velvet-gloved lover.
Auburn hair sticks to my panting lips
a static reminder of she in the night;
I need no reminder,
she’s mine.
Time stalls, shifts, rearranges;
I don’t care.
Her heart strokes my own
in incessant provocation,
every skipped beat a slice of death,
every other a tender love,
skin on skin, soul on soul.
Perhaps she hears me in her delirium
and seeks to comfort
seeks to forestall this tenderness
and make it last forever?
I hope so.
How I hope.


15 thoughts on “Her Heart”

      1. “A violent stroking by a velvet-gloved lover.” I mean, come on! That’s amazingly evocative.

  1. There should be a ‘love’ option along with ‘like’ and ‘comment’ on WordPress as there is now on Facebook. I have read so many of your posts today (sorry for spilling likes all over your blog suddenly) and loved every single one of them. This one in particular left me speechless! Such a pleasure to read your work.<3

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