You and I speak only in whispers
No living out loud, no shouts
The softest fragmentary conversation
Static in the wind
Slow starts and stops
Communication lost
Please try again
Whispers
Please try again
No love or living out loud
Hugs and kisses hidden in the dark
Silent screaming
Frustration & agony
In the silent gloom, our loves grows pale like mushrooms

Drops of dampness in the dark
Fizzling out the weakest spark
Only in whispers
careful looks & timid gestures
Silent, hidden prisoners
No love or living out loud
No shouts of happiness or promises
Only silence
Hushed whispers of longing
Silent screaming
Frustration Agony
You and I speak,
But only in whispers.

I hear them whisper, "it won't last long.”  
Won't you help me prove them wrong?

My eyelids seem
to be the strongest part of me.
When the rest of my body
falls
into the ocean
of blankets they
float open upon the white water
atop
the waves of sleep.
This is when you come back.
In this mattress I am a piece
of clay and I can still feel the deep indentations of where your fingers
wrapped themselves like Ivy around my hips.
Hips, that stuck out like white flags of surrender and
fell to the ground in a straight line.
I can still hear
you.
I am a broken record,
and your whispers are the only track that plays at this hour.
“You are fat”
“Look at how flat you are Emma, no boy will ever look at you.”
“You are ugly.”
These are the nights when I can
feel the spiderwebs your words wrapped around my ribs and
listen to the way my heart beats constricted
in its cage, your hand still clenched around it.
Can’t you see me bleeding?
Safety lies
beneath my eyelids but you pull them open
I can feel
your icy touch behind my eyes as I stare
coldly at the ceiling.
you demand to be heard.
Did you mean to put your words
in my pocket when you reached in to steal the sleep that was nestled there like crumpled dollar bills?
Do you realize that you stayed with me?
Can you take your stolen midnight hours back and place them on your pillowcase?
Will your eyelids close?
Or can you still hear my cries of protest as your soundtrack plays into the night?
I don't understand?
Did you think it wouldn't hurt me?
Or did you want to live forever,so you put your
fingerprints where you knew they wouldn't fade.

I did sleep in House of Whispers
True storm, enormous proportion
Voices heard not of lispers
Things spoken had no distortion
Sleep wrecked by bent contortion

Her breath broke in, spitting damage
Window, door, shuttered madness
Hurricane Sandy rained so ravage
Spirits moaned wailing sea of sadness
The mate looked on with ever gladness

Garbled jumble, gelatinous formation
Distinctly mocking circumstances
Sandy spoke of men lost by nation
Poet reminded how nature dances
Lives, houses, relations, left to chances

She broke trees, lifted sharks ashore
House of Whispers stood, listened
Her warnings raised tides, emoting more
Matey's  blue eyes spoke, glistened
Embraced evolved nature stiffened

Like eyes knew your mind was already at home within that lonely-love of yours.
Feeling distant frustrates the lost. The deep look for that girl that has a beautiful soul inside.
17 longer feeling years, tainted, waiting, deserves a cold man to be close to. One with a true heart.
Wishing on hopeless petals as an excuse to avoid the galaxies-worth of thought you contained in that bitter brain of yours.
Cold cheeks cried out for softly captivating lips.
Twistedly committed to searching through constellations, inviting those whose hearts were like a vortex.
To the point of disorientation, when all the constellations start to blur, creating disastrous patterns.
Fear, flawed lungs, struggling to breathe.
Cruel whispers to **** your hope of ever finding love.
Like looking past the light and into a mirror, you see him and suddenly you're not so broken anymore.
You awaken.

can you deal with the stares. the words unheard, the subtle none verbal nuances. Listen to the noise in what they call silence. hear what this world has to say. can you read between the lines or are you looking hard for something that isn't really there. searching so hard you make it appear. the air whispers in your ear, the river tells a story seldom heard. listen to the unspoken word

I call to you in whispers
when I flick off the lights
and turn my blankets into a cocoon.
Maybe you’ll hear me one day.
If not, at least I can say that I wanted to find you
and my hands that brush my lips to pull my blanket towards my face
will tell you the same story –
a night does not go by that I don’t whisper to you.
The shadows expect it of me these days;
they wait to hear me call to you
and artfully etch my words with inkless golden feathers
onto my bedroom walls.

Too much lost in translation
Transportation
Communication
This game requires no imagination

I find no elation
Of why it’s called Chinese Whispers
Since it’s English that we’re whispering
Since I can actually whisper in Chinese.

I suppose it dates back to the 17th century
When Europeans and the Chinese tried to meet
And tried to speak
And proceeded to fail
To no avail
They still could trade

So today we have this game to play
Unknowingly proving in many ways
Even to this day
We still cannot understand
What others try to say
Like whispering Chinese to English speakers.