When you talk, I have to close my eyes.
I try to think of something blissful, peaceful...
fields of wheat, blue sky (no clouds)...
but to no avail.
Your voice still funnels through my ear,
bounces off of my eyes,
reverberates against the walls of my skull.
Like a dish-rag,
like choking your ex-lover,
I can feel my brain wringing itself into two halves.
The undulating tones of your voice
make my head sway on top of my neck.
Fields of poppies, blue sky (no clouds).