The illimitable sounds of my silence,
Whisper in tongues of abandoned voices,
Their soft echoes buried deep in my heart,
Entombed by the grime of meager choices.

Nostalgia sings to me from great distance,
Tones ripple across the fabric of time,
Lyrics of ‘what ifs’ in spite of what is,
I can no longer trust these ears of mine.

~

The infinite visions of my blindness,
Evince tinted vistas of perception,
Vast panoramas walled up in my mind,
Imprisoned by dark years of deception.

Endless horizons call me to wander,
Like mirages faraway and sublime,
Visions that I’m impossibly estranged,
I can no longer trust these eyes of mine.

~

My breath smoldering from fathomless lungs,
Wafts with muses of her lingering scent,
The fire I once breathed has long since been tamed,
by love’s quilt knit from the moments we spent.

Her aroma whirls about my nostrils,
Her aura dances in an incensed shrine,
The noumenon of love drifts in your spice,
I can no longer trust this scent of mine.

~

Her Divine taste, an ambrosial allure,
Seducing my carnal hunger’s delight,
Salivates for her exotic flavors,
The taste of her lips hold me through each night.

Sweet honeyed iris that glazed over me,
Savored moments when her eyes dined with mine,
But here I am left with the salt lick of tears,
I can no longer trust this tongue of mine.

~

The rugged touch of my sandpaper hands,
Still gently caress her phantoms and ghosts,
Her warmth and heartbeats lost beneath my skin,
My soma washed on her forbidden coasts.

Her taboo canvas, these fingers would paint,
Touch like abstract expressions of Franz Kline,
But the brush of her hair has long left me,
I can no longer trust this flesh of mine.

I wrote this poem in vers libre using ten decasyllabic quatrains. A 10 by 10. The title is a double entendre.