I shouldered silence
As you slept.
The wind was whistling its way
Through some unseen crack;
But the silence was something else.
It was a thunderous battle
Between the spaces
Of what was said
And the responses that followed.
Your chest rises and falls
The casualties of thought…mount.
Ideas, like bodies, laid strewn
Across your pillow.
Conscious or not.
You sleep.
My head rests on the headboard
Indecision rages.
© 2008 Timely Disposition
No comments:
Post a Comment