shea-vogtWhisper

American
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Empathy.A whisper is a word spoken softly. A thought is an idea screamed softly. / But while I may not have the words to speak to make my thoughts known, / I can't imagine I'll be looked down upon for this empathetic dream so lofty:
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Calming Noise.Who is that yet that does not ask the question? / What creates the soul within, what makes us yearn, / What transfers through without a single mention
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City Night.Shivers, subdued, sit poised and submerged for flight / Just below my, still yet, warm-to-the-touch skin. / Conversation licks across a yellow light
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Ramble.There's this voice in the back of my head whispering little thoughts, / every day spilling words into the vortex to cause a chain reaction / of action each day that I step foot on this earth. Some days I shake
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Comfort.The words feel the same despite a new surrounding. / As if the things I touch are never what they seem. / An energetic vortex that swirls around compounding
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Dreaming.Gentle vibrations is all it takes to wake, / My muse who has fallen asleep again. / Have all the time you need to take
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The Ravens.Today I saw two brothers of the raven-- / I wonder if it's a comment on our plight. / One sat despondent and reeked of the craven,
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Breath.Here I am, circling this drain once more, / A lifetime of expectation dwindling down, / Down into a memory walking out my door
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Answer.A fresh, honest answer, wind whistling by-- / Words tumble forth gracefully in spite of all / The tiny thoughts you can't bring yourself to lie.
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Warmth.Wind blows brisk upon the back of the evening sky, / Yet, we don't mind the cold within each other's arms. / Tomorrow we'll wake and find Earth's new touch shy,
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