If I did not describe my heart how it yearns for you
how it quickens at every sight of you every instant
when I first hear your voice if I did not write of how
it races when you come near that it has skipped

when you have touched me that it pounds with the
expectation of your touch every beat so hard that
it shakes my body enough for you to see if I chose
to keep the secret of its quiet rhythm in the morning

when I wake how long I have lain quietly amazed as
our hearts beat in perfect synchrony that I wondered
how many minutes would pass before their rhythms
diverged every word withheld as I lay down my pen and

lock it away with its barren white sheets if I swore
not to describe my heart would it stop beating forever?

This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all: