momentarily

each word
that tumbles
across my
oh so talented
tongue carries
the passion of
a thousand
dying stars
yet the real
magic occurs
when nothing
is spoken at all

this dour soul
hides an inferno
you can only
hope to witness
from a distance
safe from the
licking flames
burning through
hazel lenses

an undercurrent
of desperation
grasping at your
burning flesh
in a sea of
unyielding sorrows
as explosions
arch your back
and true poetry
spills down
the inside of
your perfect thighs

i am not
beautiful
but i know
the secrets of
tricking you
momentarily
as i silently
orchestrate
all of the things
i can never
manage to say
into a crescendo
that echoes
in ethereal choirs
long after
the coda concludes

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