I have always woven silence
Into threads that tread upon my heart
Like choking back tears between notes
And filling the void with empty sparks.
I fumble the voice of reason
Into a crowded scene
Full of flashing lights
And undocumented dreams.
Where all are pointing fingers
Sharpened like tacks,
My soul a pin cushion
For days I’ll never get back.
Overnight never tasted so burnt before,
Intentions scrapped like scraps,
Like wilted lettuce and overripe tomatoes
Tossed into the trash.
I wait and wait and wait
But the weight is still the same
It’s pulling on my lips,
Overwhelming my veins.
Over time the silence dissipates
By then the damage has won
In a mere moment, I am broken
In a second, I am undone.
Moonlit Poetry 