Voices
I hear your voice so often
Nestled in my illuminated recesses,
Echoes of smoldering mystery and
Tiny, tingling pricks of solitary pain.
It’s like you’re here,
Next to me, chain-smoking and talking
About yourself, about your past loves; women that aren’t quite
Behind you, and all I can do is listen.
Let the drops fall
On the insides.
As I sway in the dark, sipping my pacifying
Liquids, I know that you don’t have much
Anymore. On me. Just a little
Sympathy. I think, instead, of newness, of eyes that show
Me tenderness, no sign of a selfish gleam.
You seethe within my memories, because you’re
Fading. It’s like you
Know, like you’re rising up to protest, stake your
Claim. I hear you, love, but it’s
Emotionless. You’re not dead, just
Silenced. You chose this. This is your
Ending.
9-26-06
Very talented. I loved how you ended this poem.
And I love that you loved it. I have scads of poetry I never share on this thing, and you inspired me to do so. You’re good at that inspiration thing.
more please