It's an intriguing notion
that everything you might have said
might have said too much;
You whisper but it screams
and bites like scratching nails;
Everything will be revealed,
Darling, in due time.
Deliberately
yet delicately,
A ceasefire that can no longer be ignored
It burns holes deep into the floor
and drops us to our knees.
Our knees!
Scraped from playing in happier times
calloused now, and atrophied.
Our needs!
Ecstatically we pilfer
exactly what will never
Seam
or Seal
these shredded remnants.
It's an appropriate motion
that we take towards the soil
towards the sole purpose
of all these thought out whispers
and all this spontaneous screaming:
Silty sounds, wiping away the mire
So I can clearly see.
No comments:
Post a Comment