The whispers were faint at first,
Now they've become regular chatterboxes.
I hear them behind the eyes of passerbyers,
As they believe they'll go unnoticed...
I see their black smokey like tendrils
Slowly stretching out to touch me,
But are quickly repulsed as if
Touching burning coals, or a burning light.
These walks in the darkness especially after rain,
Cool under foot, as reflections...
Continue reading...