Before I knew you

i heard your voice
and it sent me 
into that silent blur of being still
while on a fast moving train.
everything else silent,
noises so loud
that they no longer matter.

i was served turkish coffee from your voice,
dark and rich and filled with spices.
served from a place of secrets, 
silk and tapestries.

and i don't hear the sounds of drums and wails of war.

your voice smells of ink and old paper,
stacked in the library of an english home.
proper and yet wicked,
knowing wisdom of the ages,
but set into dusty shelves only to be found
by the most curious or intrepid.
the one that finds the room untouched,
and goes there in the afternoon,
where time means nothing.

your voice could make all places soft 
upon a woman's body,
shiver with the reverberations, 
if pressed upon them...

and i would lie beneath you on the rocks.
you above and i below,
and let your words drip slow and sweet, 
honey and thick,
from where your tongue begins, 
into my throat.
and feel no pain.

i heard your voice.