take away my soul

by
the quiet i usually crave for it is
communicated on your transistor
at the frequency of my frissons
exactly as you love diving yourself
in my music's ocean, thrilled and
gazed by heaven, shaped by sighs,
all yours, all murmuring your longs
which wish to take away my soul

the quiet i usually crave for it, —
ironically, — it's me, next to you

poetic audience

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