The word into the world 

becomes backwards 

their ways of being change

sometimes they are silent 

sometimes they scream 

inside there is a deafness 

a space, that can make people listen 

I'm just not sure how to make them hear me...

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I twist in the night, in anger.

I wake in the morning, in anger.

I know the dreams are just dreams 

but the aching is tangible, 

it’s at the forefront that I can’t shake.

It’s too early to feel this way, with holes punctured through the heart. 

A feeling that I’ve been used as target practice.

Congratulations, you’ve won…

You’ve robbed me yet again from waking with the deli...

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A solitary pigeon perches on a telegraph pole

And sings her call.

Other than that, the world is quiet.

The constant rush of rubber on tarmac

Has finally ceased.

Gone, the mechanical birds, bees and bugs

Filling the air with their droning busyness.

The warm wind has dropped,

Hushing the rustling.

And even the neighbourhood dogs respect the silence,

Sleeping soundly.

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Telepathically, your thoughts race over me

They strike during the early morning hours

It’s that time again

But we won’t talk about that now

We’ll say so much that will fit in

The space between the silence 

But those days where we lit up the sky

We won’t talk about that now

But the fantasies creep in

Some days, or most days,

On what we’ve done behind locked d...

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There is no more room
for any more 
silence
in my home
or my heart

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Music floats
Through my veins,
Brings me back to
What I am.
I sing and sing again
To kill the silence outside.
My songs, directly from my heart,
My hard chords,
A resistance
Of all what's forbidden.
My passion resists
In the middle of sounds
And chaos.

©️ By Magical whispers 

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