Her lips tremble before she speaks
As if death, was imminent,
As soon as a word, exhaled
From beyond her gullet,
She’d be lost to the echoing darkness,
Her tongue eclipsed, by emotion
Caged, kept in the pulsating fist,
Gripping tighter, suffocating thought,
Until, that moment, blends
Into an endless cold, engulfing ocean,
But they’re just words,
Held high above the heart,
We create in our diluted mind
These patterned vibrations
That crush and obliterate us,
Because we allow it.
©DorianPoe 2015
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