paula varjack performs small talk at the farrago international Slam at charlie wrights, london
small talk-
When we last spoke...
the warm rich tones of your voice
fell thick on my ears like molasses
my voice lowered to match it
and we had one of those easy meaningless
how has it been chats but
your voice... your voice...
your voice at once felt warm and thick
like some kind of sumptuous
sable fur coat and all i wanted
was to pull it round me tighter
and just smoulder
i said i wouldn't be able to see you
i wanted to mean it
i wanted it to be true
but the radical reduction in the
distance between us
hung as heavy subtext beneath
all of our sentences I
tried to make my words
sound cool...
knowing you could hear my
temperature rising
the less you asked
the more i felt myself giving
petal by petal of myself opening
and its something other than
sexual i wouldn't even say its
emotional but it is this need
that is total...
to be as close to you as
physically possible and
luxuriate in this lullaby that is
your voice...
your voice..
your voice...
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