Friday, September 13, 2013

I Don't Know Your Voice

I don't know your voice.
I know the depth of your gaze,
the resonance of your touch,
the linger of your kiss.

You are perfectly awkward
and sly in corridors; you're
ever so present, tender,
in singular moments;

still, you are absent
as the sun after dusk.

And though I am one who
practices guarded abandon
to near perfection,
it is no match for your sway.

I felt my power dissolve  
in a solitary moment -
an unspoken moment -
where you held our ground.

Now, I sift through this urge
to hear your words, to feel
the temperate climate
under your chest, to listen

to your breathing
in sleepless, unforgiving nights.

I wait, clutching dreams
with enough fantasies and fears 
to begin and end
a hundred love affairs.

I shall learn to forget you
when the moon goes home.

© 2013 Helena Malheur

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