…drifted slowly

We used to whisper softly to each other, I to you, you to I
across the endless dark expanse between the ocean and the sky
between the truth and the lies, there were nights
when my soul sat heavily in the hollow of my chest
begging to be set free from that sweet captivity
our trembling whispers drifted slowly, like smoke after a fire
lost at the edges of darkness saying nothing at all
and everything all at once
and in the ensuing silence, a quiet despair rippled through me
through my heart, my veins, taking up permanent residence
it settled into the marrow of my crumbling bones
I had been living my life in a long, stark winter storm
no-one heard it, not even me, but my heart was already broken
and I started to understand, that the silence had weight
a density and a presence, breathing an unspoken truth
that I didn’t want to hear
it is all now a distant memory, but it keeps rising from its grave
it is the ghost of all my hopes, that treads ever so carefully
through my new existence
it is the echo of a different life that I once almost lived
it keeps knocking on the door from the other side of reality
and here in the darkness I feel it leaning into me
just as the leaves whisper, before descending into darkness
or the last fragrant whispers, of flowers left on a grave
to wilt and fade in desolation
the whispers of unfulfilled dreams still cannot be silenced
the despair and the longing, the endless ache in my heart
can never ever be healed and although I close my eyes
it still whispers in my ear and in the moment I know
it’s not done with me yet
© Ann Bagnall