Sonnet X: (blankverse)

If swore I: never to describe my heart;
How desperately yearns it so for you;
How quickens it at every sight of you,
At every instant when I hear your voice;

Withheld I: how it races when you near;
How might it skip whene’er you’ve touched my cheek;
To pound its expectation of your touch;
And hard enough, you see my body shake;

Kept secret I: its quiet morning pace;
Amazed, as beat our hearts in synchrony;
My wonder as they long would not diverge;
Then, locked my paper, pen, and ink, away;

If swore I: never to describe my heart;
Unheard, would then its beat forever still?

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

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Part 10: (blankverse)

“That stepping rhythm:” deca-syllables
Of which a gracious poetess once wrote,
That navigate so flawlessly along.
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