My heart floats along with the music

as the tingling pulses fill the hollow space of my chest

and I fly with the melody of your voice.

Pluses, pauses, intonations rain from your lips

and drip from your tongue like ancient philosopher’s fire

and soft as silk they settle on my skin.

I fall into the fairy-tale blue of your eyes

as you tell those sweet long-ago tales of heroes and dreamers

and I drift along with the current of your voice.

And finally when the music stops, so shall I,

and I’ll return to earth in a cocoon made of clouds

and surrounded by your presence sink deep into sleep.


2 thoughts on “(Untitled)

  1. “and drip from your tongue like ancient philosopher’s fire” *shivers*…*reads line again*…*shivers*…*reads line again*…

    Sometimes titleless-ness is as good a feeling as naming a piece, and i think in this case you made the right call. Kelsey, you have the distinct writer’s ability of making the intangible as real as a touch or kiss; never feel that you have to second guess any piece you write which does that. (despite how natural it is for us to do so, right?) loved it.

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