Sunday, July 26, 2009

your voice slips behind my ear

your voice slips behind my ear
the way your fingers might trace
the hair line, down the neck
and curve gently across my shoulders to the other ear
to make sure that no words have escaped
unheard, misunderstood, ignored
don’t ask me to open my eyes
and witness the death of this moment again
just let me listen
let me feel this cool reassurance against my fevered skin
one more time
as your voice fades to memory
and I sit waiting
for the next moment
for the next breath
for the next word


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