oh the whispers you hear

Rumors cling to her
As if she were born of fantasy
If you didn’t look close enough
You’d believe them

Her every feature memorized
From a distance
If stares could melt
She’d long be a puddle

Devouring eyes implore a taste
The touch becomes a habit
Filthy minds puppeteer filthy hands
A mixture of greed and obsession

You reach for her unvoiced desires
Assumed, as always
Untrue, as always
Affection dissolves before it appears

You demand an answer
The one you want to hear
Different from the one she gives
Yet excuses don’t work if the consent was never there in the first place

The stories she does not share
Haunt memories and thoughts,
Begging to be remembered
As she begs to forget

Love isn’t pretty
Love was never pretty

oh the whispers she hears