the Whisper

my fingers shall curl upon thee
thy breathless body still
Mutter songs upon thee
if not against thy will
i will cradle the vivid
i will humble thy prey
and give thee my spirit
and toss my body away
i shall but meet thee
among the restles cries
thy shall no see me
but greet me with goodbye’s
i might hold thy cheeks in my palms
but thou cannot feel
i might cry in thy arms
but wounds shan’t heal
my murmuring cries
cannot reach those ears
nor can my mourning sighs
release you from my tears

the Whisper

EcstaticFear

Joined May 2009

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