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: