Silent Sleep
This night, I walk within empty echos
Of waist-deep weary fog, sinking to
The crumbling floor of futility;
Dripping minutes bleed through cracked
Rusty hours, as wafting feathers
Of broken rest circle dreams
Devoid of lullabies - in waning monotone
pillow smothered murmurs
Cover breath of crushed voices
Not even stealing a skeletal whisper
Past my withered lips.
8/30/19
Copyright © Michelle Faulkner | Year Posted 2019
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