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: