Her Voice

Image: Art By Anima

My imaginings

On these warm nights

Always drift

To her voice

Each decibel

Commanding

My stormy shadow

To strip and bare

Her bell of truth

Vibrates

And shakes off

My old self

Her lips whispering

To me

Calling me home

Beckoning

Beseeching

Becoming

Her siren sound

Through foggy nights

And doubtful days

It’s driftwood teak

Ringing in my ears

That rusted

Eastern grit

It’s steely cadence

And throaty

Depth

Her Bacall

Of it all

It’s her song of sea

Sung only for me

I ache

For that first syllable

It’s musicality

Tapping out

It’s beats

On her lonely beach

Channeling confidence

Through its echoed waves

Drifting through time

And mind

The way she curls words

Into winds

That gust my love

Across an ocean

To finally

Lap on her shores

The me I do not know

Tearing through

Womb

And wound

The sand

And the sex of it

To hear that thing

I desire more than air

Itself

Just one word

That’s all

From a voice

I’ve never heard