Pressure in the chest.
It is the soul that speaks in soft
Tongues of birds in flight
Pressure in awe of life.

It is a brave new day
Of things that cross my path
And come my way
Yet still is the wrath
That fades to gray.

Never ending is my hope
And passion brought forth.

Blush, blush at the intimacy of it,
How it shines in my eyes,
Trembles in my voice soft
With childish gaiety and fervor.

It’s you she called to share her news.
You own her, you know it,
I hope it pleases you as much as she.
It is killing her not to touch you.