by Amy Metcalfe

Delicate and simple, you tingle at my lips,

Whisper sweet secrets of sound minds to

relieve the child in the vastness of 

mentality.

Momentarily.

You are the elixir of peace, the tranquiliser,

Unspecific taste to my generalised ache.

Gently inject through my body,

Capture, pull, throw, knock, bruise me with

silence,

And in my reposal, give

Impetus to imperfection~