Silence
The silence. . .
And shouldn't it be greater than death?
Who are we to go unnoticed?
The simple shadows of who you once were are all we are now.
Do you remember us or does your heart yearn too far to forget?
We haunt so gently along your floor, growing tall and fearsome,
perhaps pulling your eyes to one side to glance behind you.
That candlelight will not save you from your regret.
We devour the light and it's hopeful promises,
leaving you to midnight letters toward those who ghost your heart.
You cannot remember what you have said and that, dear one,
is because we have devoured your memory as well.
However, the sweetness of amnesia is far too great for you;
we so mercifully allow your rememberance of the despair and the woe, it is what you deserve.
How dare you change and cast your shadows aside.
How dare you abandon your withered self and move on.
How dare you reduce us to such an unhealthy place as the past.
Cruelty is no matter.
Our lithe fingers will crawl sweetly around your throat in the night
and we will press our icy lips to your ear and send you deathmares
about us, about who you once were.
Our hands will close over your lips; your eyes will be wide in terror.
You will remember once more what you so dearly had forgotten
and you will soon be a being of the past and all that will remain
is silence.
And shouldn't it be greater than death?
Who are we to go unnoticed?
The simple shadows of who you once were are all we are now.
Do you remember us or does your heart yearn too far to forget?
We haunt so gently along your floor, growing tall and fearsome,
perhaps pulling your eyes to one side to glance behind you.
That candlelight will not save you from your regret.
We devour the light and it's hopeful promises,
leaving you to midnight letters toward those who ghost your heart.
You cannot remember what you have said and that, dear one,
is because we have devoured your memory as well.
However, the sweetness of amnesia is far too great for you;
we so mercifully allow your rememberance of the despair and the woe, it is what you deserve.
How dare you change and cast your shadows aside.
How dare you abandon your withered self and move on.
How dare you reduce us to such an unhealthy place as the past.
Cruelty is no matter.
Our lithe fingers will crawl sweetly around your throat in the night
and we will press our icy lips to your ear and send you deathmares
about us, about who you once were.
Our hands will close over your lips; your eyes will be wide in terror.
You will remember once more what you so dearly had forgotten
and you will soon be a being of the past and all that will remain
is silence.
Labels: poetry