Like Honey

The sound of your voice in my mouth tastes like honey, like a transfusion of arable parables where weapons shed their birthmark of blood, and sorrow is cured of its name. Your voice is an enduring light moving through me, so when I travel deep into the anvil-hearted dark, I feel your shine and know we’re alive. You awaken the stillborn earth within me, crack wide open the silence-reckoned seed. And so I grow stronger, forge cadence from complacency, rail against the agonies and atrocities threatening to uproot the stars from our future night skies.

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