The torrents which fall from your lips 

Do―all maladroitly-mimicked sounds—lynch, 

In the coiling meter of a minute

Stolen by golden ether, but still menaced; 

Such flurries against those faces 

Bewilderingly complacent 

Will the chilled impatience 

Of your words all-the-more hastened 

As lateral lectures—sanctioned

On mattress-muffled implications—

Afford breath oscillated

Albeit generously weighted

With charming, bright affections

Wielding fallacies frozen in inflection 

Within context of the cadence therein 

That coaxes you to sleep again   …

Where you are, through me, interwoven 

Whispering queries formed by quotients,

All ascribing us these soft moments—

What striking, ’twixt both, that most potent

And alighting the protracted arm of misconception

By providing your heart prompt for resurrection