Untitled

There are mornings when the sun looks dim and your lips feel distant,
When I question the existence of your whispered words,
And wonder if the freckle on your nose and the smiling crinkle of your eyes
Are a falsehood of my mind.

On days like these the caress of your touch destroys my fraying nerves,
And the sweetness of your tongue poisons the murmur of your voice.
It’s on days like these that I succumb to the uncertainty of love
And twist the whispered truth behind your words into whispered horrors of the night.

But, this all ends when you hold me close as we lay in bed.
When the shelter of your arms shields me from the inkwell of the moon,
The steady rhythm of your sleeping breath drives away my fears, and
Your scented warmth lures my timid fingers toward the sinews of your soul.

When every word is imagined, every gesture is magnified, and every sentiment is contorted,
The only antidote becomes the very thing I doubt: your love.

— — —
“Untitled” by Azul Serena

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