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Three Words

I hate poetry, but...

By Charlie TyrellPublished 7 years ago 1 min read
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When I am with youthe words won't stop.The empty void becomesan overflowing river of gold.The words that repeatare not a mantra or a curse.They are the whisper of the wind.The caress of the clouds.It is the beat of my soul.

In your armsmy heart swells, fat and full.Spreading across my chestand throughout my body.It is warmth and comfort.The electricity pulses;I can feel every nerve.I am as fragile as a bird.I am as strong as a bull.I am alive.

Clenched jaw and tight lips.The words cannot be spilt:they can never be unsaid.Tongue bitten a thousand times overThe only peace left foundis in the space between the lines.Because everything is saidwhen nothing is said at all.

A soft gaze,a gentle kiss,a reverent touch.

The words have been said more times than they have not.

Actions speak louder than words.But my muscles are weakand my mouth is hungry.

How long can I contain this?

love poems
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About the Creator

Charlie Tyrell

Twenty-something writing her way through life.

charlietyrell.co.uk

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