les pauvres cœurs


Sunday, September 14, 2008

sounds you'd die to

The syllabic sound
of your name
has been echoing in me.

It starts with my footsteps,
and grows up the creaking of my knees
to the swish-swish of my thighs
warm from walking friction.
Around my back,
calling up my spine to the
thud-thud-thumping of my poorly broken heart.

Your name has been
the echo of my heartbeat
since the day I was born;
I just couldn't hear it
'til some minutes ago.

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