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: