Ending the Sentence

Tremble in my arms like the remaining leaves
on the branches in late autumn. You do not
tremble because it is cold outside, you tremble
from the joy of warmth. Inner space grows
and contracts. Breath and language become run
on sentences with alternating inflections. There
is a reluctance to place the hard stop to the line.
It is necessary in all ways. A demarcation
that promises continuation.