Photo: Nomadic Lass
Silence
devours time,
covering me like
a thick numbing blanket
of pristine snow.
I slumber
beneath.
Cold
creeps in,
the infectious disease
of a dead heart.
like frost spreading
across glass
blind.
Words
protect us,
inoculation from the
paralyzing vacuum of doubt.
Tell me you
love me
still
Or let me sleep.
I like it very much.
The ending was striking.
Beautiful but bleak, also a little sad and wistful; I loved it.
captures a certain way of thinking, in a stunningly perfect way.
This little poem makes me feel that creeping cold–and feel ambivalent about it, not simply want to resist it. I wonder about the one being addresses, just as in your Gift Wrapped poem. Beautiful, Rgrl!
The ache from the first years of lost. Some day it goes away and finally you can let them sleep. As always excellent piece of writing.
so, so good.
I love that words, so often your sword, are your shield here.
Your words recall so much pain that I’m loathe to say anything at all. Except thank you.
This is so poignant, so richly emotional. Thank you.
Perhaps taken aback would accurately describe my reaction to this writing, and so very many others of yours – how can i describe, or articulate my feelings; it feels, often as if you’ve stepped inside and pulled the words from my very heart, mind, and soul.
i to, thank you.
(Your address of Taboo in Erotica was brilliant, by the way.)