My husband would have
told you I was
loud.
He
died then and through my
silence
I mourn the sounds of
his breathing.
I listened to the clouds
whispering
The trees swimming
sounds through my
tears
I scream in my brains
lobular desertion of
reality.
The end of my thoughts...
of
yesterday..
There is no reason
to explain the
desertion
of a life unaware,
of my silence that
now screams for the
end of my tears.
Caroline Shank