I beseech thee Lips, do not part,
constrict yourselves, keep shut,
lest your articulation reveal Heart.
Chest’s taciturn tenant: demure yet
resilient, hungers not for revelations
in consort with scandal and regret.
She entreats solely to withdraw,
recoiling to her quiescent desolation,
lingering there ‘til arctic emotions thaw.
Despondency will come to fade
With time’s teeming tide, a slothful
Recovery from solecisms already made.
Eyes, I implore, seal yourselves tightly,
Allay your lust for perception, relinquish
Recognition and settle into slumber slightly.
I crave liberation from listless lucidity,
Abdication from arid authenticity,
An epoch to recover from my own stupidity.
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