What It Whispers.

rain.

Thousands of miles away,

In the land where they both lived,

A sharp cry stifled in the air.

Alarmed and entranced they broke away from their embrace,

As the sweat trickled down his forehead,

She caressed his head and smiled,

But tight lipped.

He knew she was shivering within,

Her hands turned white and cold,

And the silence was killing within,

He craved to find comfort in her,

But what a killjoy were the bullets,

That they pierced the skin of his beloved

And there she lay sans any color

Or life, but with hope

That she embodied for as long as she lived.

Her body fell limp,

His flesh turned blue,

And his widened eyes ceased not to find beauty,

But he sure did find no beats

that always told him everything was okay.

And she...was Dead.

As the rain poured heavily,

He dug the pit

To bury the beloved as she was to become one with the soil

He pressed his lips too tightly on her forehead

And pecked her chapped lips

That barely was pink.

As he lowered her to the ground,

Perhaps her prayers had prevented him

From falling deep into the pit

To become a soulless being,

Just not like her.

She was dead perhaps,

But she had too much of life in her,

And she had lived way too much in everyone's smile,

That she could never be told to be dead.

He had done nothing as such as her.

Whereas she left the pieces of her heart

to the beloved ones,

His cold demeanor only scared those kids

Who draped their arms around her waist.

But when it came to her,

Never did he cease to love her

Cradle her, cherish and respect,

For her, he shun the darkness of his world,

And let light enter.

And when the torch that guided

Burnt off with the breeze that caressed him,

Where shall he find light?

When he would return fatigued and stained with coal,

From the long hours of labor work

She would stand and smile,