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Beautiful Syllabels

I whisper it over and over again –

your name.

Under my breath,

as I repeat it like a secret,

the syllables tickle my tongue,

linger on my lips,

then hover in the air around me,

warming both my insides and my limbs,

enveloping me in a cloud of magic,

making me whole again.

 

My tongue expertly navigates the rising and falling sounds of your name.

It is similar to mine,

eerily so,

with a sweet twist that never fails to plaster a smile to my face.

My lips form the letters of your surname at a leisurely pace,

indulging in the pleasing way it fits in my mouth,

cradling the sounds,

wishing for them to remain mine forever.

 

I whisper your name wherever I go,

carrying you through each part of my life.

But when I'm alone,

your name echoes off the walls,

electrifying the air with the addition of two new words,

a loaded gun,

uttered before your thrilling name,

I and love

a collection of beautiful syllables that I can no longer contain.

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Written by
taylor-1
American
Published
Aug 21, 2012
Lines·Words
27·176
Permission

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