Love letter # 470

It doesn’t take much. Just your name. Spoken, thought of or written down. Four letters to let loose the storm. To break the night open. Smash the atoms. Destroy the ramparts of denial. For you are the end of my arrogance and the beginning of my nakedness. You are the eviscerating force that reduces bullish language to supplicant sound. If, before you, I was noise and colour and pomp, with your kiss I was quietened. In your hands, made humble. With your love, unleashed.





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