Monday, March 13, 2017

The Invisible Voice

My dear orator,
your voice hangs upon the air where listening ears
are moved and shaken by what has already settled in me.

How long has it been since the beginning?
Since the time we built this city on the rocks,
and rolled the soil in lines of coke and rum
How long has it been?

You paid me a visit today
with a face that couldn't decide
whether to regret or pity me.
Instead you brought flowers and stared out the window.

Every gesture is a wish
that life wasn't so determined to finish us all.
And I don't blame you
for what life did to me.

For I was your silent instrument,
your mirror, your machinery,
your knight in denim and a cotton hoodie.

Your dream was my dream.
and dreams only stop at death's door
to say "hello".