I was perhaps the wrong whisperer of night
Or was it them who named me the night's frost, when I was barely the day's warmth.
Perhaps a staged parrot, or a songbird made to learn.
A repetition of voices, all of which said by me but not said by me at all
I'm a mimicker, an imitator of practiced words, and half hearted gestures.
Not in the way how you hug life with its guests,
But a liar like one you become when you call out, saying, I'm fine.
I say I wish to, but my wishes you can never comprehend
I say i want to, while my lips were sealed and throat tied of my wants.
So I tell you what you want to hear, as only then can I speak
You say you love the sound, so i never stopped
Thinking, till I am led to the edge of my staged acts,
Perhaps till I vomit of my truth, till I cannot be yours,
I'll become yours.
I'll sing of your dreams saying they are mine,
I'll remain the frost of dark, till you say you are cold
I'll live your life for you, till it bring your heart a calm the rest refused to become.
Will let winter bite my skin, and invade my chest till it freezes my lungs and melts my life.
I'll let myself wither each spring, each time you say come undone after embracing my torn body.
But know, the voice you loved to hear had long cracked,
Had become mute the day I forced my own voice to quiet, the day I let the voice you love win for the calm of our lives.
_hira
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A/N this may sound like it, but it's not a love poem haha, you're free to take this however you want though.
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Grief too is Melodic
PoetryA collection of poetry and prose, feelings and emotions, love and loss. Written with the intention that it may give voice to the thoughts that hold you hostage, thoughts that remain a distant hum to your grief. Written with the intention that you r...
