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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required My whispers fall like drops of rain in silver streams. revealing a secret in the dark of night. Your secret, but I'm the one counting the cost of unanswered questions I should've asked. Too late now to suture my broken heart. Too late to erase you from my mind; or ease the pain and grief caused by you ... a thief who stole my life from me. Whispers rise from my heart and spill from my lips. Soft as the gentle rain that tries to wash my face in vain. I stumble down this darkened street, from one lamp post to the next, holding on to them. I couldn't hold on to you. You left me in the rain, crying out your name. I have become a pitiable creature. There is no respite from this torment, this storm inside of me. Why must I drown in despair for your betrayal? Is there nothing that will hush these whispers? To conceal the voice that whines in my head, this moaning, faintly spoken is a conspiracy between my heart and soul. They make a mockery of me, but on this night my whimpers threaten me more than lightning and thunder. They echo within my lacerated heart as it seeks to bury the pain... the pain that distorts my whispers and leaves me shuddering. I murmur so no one can hear the fear churning inside of me. I burn from your brand... deep scars on my soul won't heal. Would that I could douse the fire searing my memories of you, I mourn but I keep walking on this street where you left me. Each drop of rain cuts my body like broken glass. Then, only then, in spoken whispers do I bleed. Deafen them...or drown me! Dawn breaks and still I hear them recanting my sorrow. Though time moves on, my memory remains in the past, following me in shadows wherever I go. Drenched from the storm that now breathes its last, I start the long journey back home. If only my whispers would leave me alone I'd have peace until the next falling rain drives me insane to tread upon this cursed street once more. It was in a raging storm, when last I walked upon it with you. On that cold wet night when you whispered to me, "I belong to another. Our love was never meant to be." Is it my whispers or yours that dance in the puddles...in the puddles that splash in my head? Murmurs I dread with each downpour. I will never make them stop...until the rain no longer falls.
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