Whisper some Shakespeare in my ear.
Maybe a scene from A Midsummer Night's Dream.
Or better yet, copy a sonnet, longhand, complete
With misspelled words and archaic punctuation.
Send me a text referencing Eliot.
Offer to anaesthetize me and lay me on your table
Like a movable feast for a poor man
Who has nothing to give but another man's love.
Or just this once, speak to me.
In your words, from your soul.
Be pedestrian, be predictable, be cliché.
Say plain words in a plain way.
But make me want to listen
To the tone in your voice
To the catch in your throat
To the hitches and hesitations.
And then kiss me.
Let your lips tell me what your words can't.
And look for my reply in these blue eyes.
Then leave language behind for tonight.