The silence beams from the moons iridescent rays,
gentle paws pad up my bed to lay,
a calming ambience I pray will stay,
but once again the voices flow my way.
12 am the door creaks wide,
at first, your love is seen in wide smiles and open stares,
your kisses like a miracle to my tired exhausted eyes,
prayers creep up my tongue unable to even register my own voice in the midst of this loving embrace,
but still, I know what's coming.
I am unable to enjoy your love at this hour,
unable to see what you see or feel what you feel
because oh lord I know what's coming.
As his adoration waivers and his thunder settles in a storm is coming.
Your tears spill showers, rolling down broken hills unable to end because the words you hear so cruel you have begun to believe, yet still... you love him.
As your voices intertwine like grapes on a vine, beauty and magnificence I cannot seem to find because I know what's coming.
Your heart swells wide with hope inside, I search desperately to find where it hides, you see I know what's coming.
These brains are spun on drunken dreams, you look to him with such love it's unimaginable to conceive how the man who receives is him.
And when the voices scream, the streams become oceans filling up your hollowed valleys.
And they don't subside, not until the red grapes bloom a corsage on your cheekbones, anger lost in translation as love. And when you die a little bit inside, still you don't seem to find what's coming.
When your oceans become mine, my whimpers become a crime,
because somehow his love becomes more important than mine,
just please find inside what's coming.
A "spoken" word about stuff. Finally edited it, if you have any edit suggestions or anything let me know, my work is never complete.
Published 5/2/16