She sighed poetry

They tasted you upon her words

The poet in me wanted to speak,
while I wanted to stay silent.

I grew weary of her voice
pressing against my ribs.

So I let her.

Let her tell you
that your beauty
moved her into cadence.

Your voice aroused her,
and she sighed herself into words
until she began
to know herself again.

---

My name is Mara, and my publication Organised Overthinking is part poetry, part observation, part “I should probably have kept that thought to myself.” Making eye contact with the human condition and then writing about it. If that sounds like something you would enjoy, I would love it if you would consider subscribing.

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