deepundergroundpoetry.com

They Do, You Know

etched it on stones, with chisels
these warbled words, spoken through whistles
ode to love almost, but unpronounced
promises held within unsaid
woven through constellations of stars
buried so deep in soul windows

they do, you know, fester sore
bubbling heat of wanting
to burst out in songs
clicking heels in glee
decorum, stand on ceremony
excitement through sparkling eyes

so say it write it pronounce it
all that needs to be said
articulate...expressions are dead
sometimes, except your laughter.
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