Destruction of the Drum Machine

There has been language before now;

Phrases of elegance and sophistication,

Raw expressions of injury, desire and ignorance,

Soft terms of satisfaction in an aftermath;

But I wish here for exhaustion, no words for this—

I want to be wordless for you, hushed in the curve

Of your approach, waiting and knowing

I cannot shape it; torqued in love’s instruction

I adhere to you, mask melting in the strangeness

Of this departure. A silence brimming over,

Desideratum between us, a new sound unfolding