So as these strokes form words on the paper,
Think my touch drawing patterns on your skin.
Each loving curve, a dance from here to there
As my hand moves on the page to draw you in;
High and low, my heart swells with its motion
As I imagine yours beating with mine.
Each line, a sweet caress with precision,
Connects our minds that we may so align.
Every kiss my pen leaves with its tip
On every inch of the page till it’s full
Is one more fiercely planted on your lips;
I linger for their taste before I pull.
On the last dot, my words are a song made whole;
And I surface from the depths of your soul.
Sonnet IX
February 5, 2022
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