Sonnet VIII: (decasyllabic line)

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’ve touched me; that it pounds with the
Expectation of your touch, every beat
Hard enough that you can see it shake me;

Kept secret its quiet morning rhythm;
Long amazed our hearts beat in synchrony;
Wondering how long they would not diverge;
Locked away my pen, and ink, and paper.

If I swore never to describe my heart,
Unheard, would it stop beating forever?

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

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