They weren’t the only ones who said
Whispers often have hidden meanings.
Soft and romantic or envious and hateful.
Countless are the things people forgot to mention,
About whispers.
There really are whispers of love,
Heartbeats and sticky palms.
Butterflies in the stomach
Comforted by a warm soft cheek.
Closer than an delicate embrace,
Perhaps even a light sweet kiss.
Brushing lips against your ear…
Do you feel that shiver?
Blushing red to the tip of your ears.
Past the boundaries of unspoken intimacy
And the murmurs of petal soft poetry,
Love, you captured my smiling heart
With a warmth embedded in glittering whispers.
They told me that with all this thinking
One day I’ll be able to stop
Forget
and
Forgive.
No one mentioned I’d have leftovers.
Wrinkly green beans in Tupperware.
There really are whispers of hate,
Bloodshed and rough edges.
Bullets wounds in the stomach and
Twisted in agonizing pain with a low cackle.
Furthest from a lovers embrace
Perhaps considered the kiss of death,
Brushing a scythe along your throat…
Do you feel that shiver?
Goosebumps up along your limbs.
Past the borders of unspoken cruelty
And the shrieking of razor sharp prose,
Sinner, you stole my crying shadows
With a chill hidden in shrinking whispers.
They told me all this thinking that
One day I’ll be able to stop to
Forget and Forgive.
No one mentioned I’d have leftovers.
Dried up pork in Reynolds wrap.
That I do feel broken on some days;
Which is usually a Wednesday.
And I’ll try, but the barriers are still up.
Regardless, I’ll trust them.
Believe them.
For the loudest whisper I hear,
Is of all the things to come.
In love or hate.
