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Mackerel, they want to  be
both unanimously agreed;
but why is she stuck still
under the hide of a whale?
imperfect imagination is the reason for all disconnect
why refuse to bark, after donning the costume of the dog?
it's all a play, after all one should realize, lasting till the curtain falls
"All the world is a stage" The world observes 450th birth anniversary of
Shakespeare on April 23.
i look at her in the innocence of her casual moment
and in the fine lines of the truth of her image
i see with clarity that she defines me
her hair wet thick tangible with its scented cascade
the curves of her eyelids
the flecks of black in the blue of her eye

in the detail of her
are the thousands of words that a woman's heart whispers
the seas of mystery and soft summer meadows of longing's dream
the ink of her lips feed my pens soul
the soft lines of them wet supple
to hear your name upon them is like having your soul wrapped in silk
she whispers mine
and for a time uncounted i pass from this world
in her lips gentle embrace

she says something but i am so caught by
the intensity in her eyes
the words unspoken there are the fires of my hearts very soul
i burn brightly there in the warmth of her gaze
i burn sweetly in her desires
like drifting on a sea of tears of joy
a thousand lifetimes of the wandering in bliss fairytale kingdoms delight
brought to life in space of a moment that she touches you with her eyes

i with the greatest care untangle her from her doubt
her lips paused in the spoken word
as she searches my face for meanings
i tell her simply that she is the garden of my soul
and i savor all the beautiful things that she gives life to in my heart
the ink of her lips writes the poem of my world
the songs of her echo along my senses from my fingertips
in the warm damp of her hair
to her scent filling my soul with its symphony's of every want that
any soul could ever dream
i burn brightly there in the warmth of her gaze
i burn sweetly in her desires
tragedy has made me silent.

he crept down my throat
and softly snipped away at my voice;
now there is nothing.

i smile and nod
smile and nod
smile and smile
and nod and nod
falling asleep in plain sight
watching your lips move in speech
wishing mine would follow suit

tragedy has made me silent,

made me timid
made me grow in stature until i am awkward
gangly
always in the way
hiding behind
a shorter sister
but still a sore thumb

a quiet
quaking
obvious protrusion
i invoke conversation
but it dies out
with the smile in my eyes
the bobbing of my head
the silence of my lips

tragedy has made me silent.
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