Today my heart told me this

I couldn't disagree.

Aphrodisia

By Richard Hoffman
 

Love’s language is hyperbole, but whispered,

sibilant similes and promises sotto voce.

It’s easy to imagine you’ve misheard,

the form and content clash, create this weird

distortion like an echo or a tape delay.

Love’s language is hyperbole, but whispered.

On which do you place emphasis: The words?

Or the breath? The farfetched or the foreplay?

It’s easy to imagine you’ve misheard

when objectivity has disappeared

and your lover is getting further carried away.

Love’s language is hyperbole, but whispered

vows? It’s hard to take him at his word,

or hers: Speak up! Proclaim! you want to say.

It’s easy to imagine you’ve misheard,

hard to admit one sharp as you is stirred.

You need to back off, cool down, act blasé.

Love’s language is hyperbole, but whispered.

It’s easy to imagine you’ve misheard.