Pulse

To say I love her is not untrue.

But iits more that when I feel in her that vein blue pulse,

some counterpart pulses in me.

Like the animal that doesn’t know it has a voice

until it meets another, calls out to it, and so

finds itself in the same breath as it finds its mate.

Like the sound of her heart beat,

makes me suddenly aware of my own.

But more than that.

The sound of her heart sends an electric pulse

that runs from her body to mine,

so that the quiet starts beating

and I find within the emptiness

a throb separate from hers, that is my own.

She calls, and part of me I never knew existed answers,

and that answer hangs in the air,

like a ringing in the ears,

even when she is gone.

And I’m in love with the sound of my voice,

as it echoes through the room.