The Languange Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

My pulse upon
Your pulse:
Immense tremors.

I steal all
Of your breaths.

Or is this a fair trade
Of life? I can hear
Your pristine thievery.

A hand upon
A hand - a frantic twining;
Melding paradise!
This fiery union, an amaranthine
phenomenon, stares at
The continuum of time.

Your rivulet of blood,
I can hear it rummage
As I am girdled close
To your promontories.
Enough of this sordid fancy
And your somber memory;

A cognizance upon
A pursuant's wandering:
Here I do know where
To go and I know all
The paths that fork
Themselves into a thousand
Baffles and a thousand
Deaths inside this
Traversing towards your empire.

The language of the stars,
And the language of your
Soul that clenches upon
Impact with mine…

I cannot decipher
This unfathomable tether,
But still I can hear
Their woes, assuaged by
Nothing more but
The ways of the heart.