The bells have chimed, but the whispers still remain. In my silence I can hear their prayers. I can feel the dew upon my lips as I hum softly in the mysts of eternal thought. Provoked by harm, a mental note persists that time grows short...but it seems so terribly long to me. I used to seek answers in the blade of a knife...now those scars remind me of my own past. They have become windows that I can look through...to others only black obsidian bars their sight into my soul. I whisper to the sky..."Anonymity is the best defense?" And then I lower my head and walk on. I used to know bliss, soft and sensual as a lover's kiss. First night's touch and I can know your smell within this white box, the prism of our own hearts.
The whispers remain, bidding me fall to sleep gently...remembering your name spoken from the depths of shadows residing in the myth of daylight. Pity being awoken by reality...the summer's warmth decadent by a history of harsh winter...renders the light void, annulled by a shade's couteractions. The myth inside me is wanting to get out, stretching my skin to see the beautiful face of love...which speaks in silence to my heart. I hope this feeling lives on through our bond...the memories will always stay...if not the time allotted. The myth of me is you...
*Dedicated to someone very special to me. If only I didn't have to suffer this silence without you.*
