Whisper in the night
in guise of sounding cry
pierce night’s veil
witness souls gather unaware
Creeping chill besets
the voice cut short
from lips so cold
that frozen, shatter
White and sharp remains
rictus grin drained
of soft voice
of covering night
Wind through porous bone
the only whisper
that is left


© W.R.R. 3/3/2011

About W.R.R.

Bipolar & survivor of incest/child sex abuse and adult male rape; bisexual, polyamorist, poet/writer/advocate & married father of four. View all posts by W.R.R.

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