Silence, Her Eyes and the Words never to be Told

My silence says it all in a blink of an assassin’s eye, the bullet of rage I fired with my shattering stare hitting true with tenfold fury, as only can come with the depths to seal away galleons beneath the crushing waves that roll over oceans of half truths and lies, no such merciful reprieve for those that cross the divide from respectful companion to be cast into the deep waters, that threateningly lurk in my stonily sombre eyes, morbid silence to put graves to shame.

All that came before in the many variations of my currently closed off life slip into the trap of my comfortably dark frame, a picture without the frivolity of fancy golden trimmings or the translucent shine of silver leave, the metallic purity of which forming the heavy cross that I unwillingly bare but with an honourable nature and sarcastic edge I will shoulder the pain.

Before my damnation, cursing banshees of past failures lining the ice cold reef through which I must pass with cutting screams and piecing cries, once stepped upon there is no hope of a satisfying return to all I paid, I will visit once more with her that angelically from oceans of half truths raised my fragile sense of worth from the waves of crushing lies.

From the sense of her igniting betrayal that set great forests of hearts into rejections fantastical flames, ashes reborn into figments of terror as to causes beyond forgiveness my fractured mind turned sour with emotional repression, blindingly powerful poisons that once slumbered only in the words of a bloodletting pen made into forms of hell.

Time a morbid shadow of the twisted incursions that hatred pushed forth with burning raging into the lands of reason, slithers into the chasms of my fractured psyche from which I draw thankful release, even if that revival of pleasant moods is fed by discontenting poisons that re-awakened with vengeful force, now spilling onto paper from a darkly possessed pen.

But again to the source, an end of icy reefs that now hold only ghosts making hollow noises as immune to the scattered banshees I am reformed into a figure of sombre stone, silence more vicious than a torrid sand storm in the lifeless flowing of a desert stream, bullets fired with emotionless stares at those who would try to help me, only stopped by the enchantment of her eyes.

For she is both the purest poison that scorched forests into deserts, replaced warming suns with pale shadows of the moon, as much as she also brings peace to life’s incessant screaming torment and with her angelic presence breaks morbid silence with the slightest hint of her smile, my words returned from long fought isolation to say all but three little words…


One thought on “Silence, Her Eyes and the Words never to be Told

  1. Pingback: Dreams 2nd | Ghost of a Shadow

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