Language of us
We speak with an unending ellipsis,
We look into each other while erasing exclamations
And I, settle into disfigured question marks…
Your patience wanes upon your every stare,
The ease of movement from the door to my lips
Syntactically forms our compounded desire
Pausing the denial with our resounding onomatopoeic pucks
And restoring the vacancies in my soul.
I am in love.
A circular stop at such definition is inevitable.
My small world had been bracketed into the parenthesis of our transverse
It lives only with in for it is miscommunicated with out.
I am in love.
My yearning burns for you,
Centering myself in your structured personifications.
I live in the voice of your articulations.
I slumber on the curtsy of your felt pen
I breathe upon the breaths you unsmother
To project words upon which I depend.
I am in love.
Our bodies have unified as infinite embraces of unspoken literature
Flavouring the artifacts of bards and luminaries of times untold
Our bodies fill the string of the sentence
That lyricises upon the song of the ancient betrothed
We are eternal.
In a present that seems finite.
We are immortal
There lies the winging words of ecstatic love
Lingering on the endless ellipsis …
