Thursday, November 30, 2017

The Whisperer

He sits
Beside me
Lithe of limb
Liquid eyes
Pools of brown

Probing with a
Stillness, searching
Through the
Skins of
My masquerade

Words tumble
Against my teeth
Swallowing, I
Force them

While he
Watching my
Swirling thoughts
In silence

While I
To stop from
Slipping, stroke
Grey wool, to
Ground myself

And I wonder,
I wonder
What he thinks
In silence
As he waits

This whisperer
Who, lithe
Of limb, and
Eyes of brown
Sits beside me

While words
Tumble against
My teeth
I, with a sigh
Have learnt

I have learnt
To smile, to dance
To keep
The veil

Of the masquerade

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