Saturday, March 17, 2012

Every Whisper Is Heard

I hear the tin roof…. resound
in my broken home
two-drops past the buckets edge
and the rain flows –
to the lonely…… floor.

Clouds gathering
as the drums begin to beat
the wind…pining at my skins door.

Where is the sun
that burning pleasure
when her soft lips –
surrounded me
a battle I had one.

Wading through the water
looking for the door
I can’t breathe
just the thought of her
drowns my heart… and me.

She’s my echo
her love…. these beating sounds
my heart now trapped
in this hollow room
I listen to the tin roof
where every whisper….. is heard.

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