A Silent Soul
. . .it's been long
way to long
silence sits at the tip of the tongue
then I run
from the night
her dark
our songs
that held on tight
to what once was
or is neither helpless
nor wrong
. . . it was me
holding on
to your breath
lying down
in the many faces of death
but still all alone
with the rain
each drop descending
developing
a bubble
padded
to keep inside the pain
. . . I heard you
in meadow past the way
in places
merry souls once played
and played and played
a note one would never let slip away
I slid and I hid
in puddles deeper than the day
made of stone and stick
chained with locks
one could not have picked
I lived or rather died
in the muck and the drear
holding nothing close nor near
no one spoke
whispers drowned
I but disappeared
tongue obscure
it could barely lick
salt of tiny tears
. . . life I hear will never wait
with chains or locks or pearly gates
Copyright © Ts Poetry | Year Posted 2021
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