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Feeble the din
as dark settled in,
the soften collision
of moths in a tin;

of sounds I could isolate:
the tiniest feet
and the stiff linen flap
of wings to a beat
and the crush of each lung
against heart, against gut,
and the slice of raw tin
in each visceral cut -

but of all of these noises
the most loathsome one
was the silence I suffered
when noises were gone.
©2008-2009 ~Nyctophobia
:iconnyctophobia:

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:iconcrazysheepie:
Lord Ivanka, your stuff always gives me chills.
:heart:

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My Policy on Comments

Poetry and prose is here: ~hearmebaa
Local Community: ~CapeTownCommunity *TRIBE-SA
:iconautumn-rain:
love it

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Endless is my vow, under the azure sky, boundless autumn...
:iconadorabell:
Awe-Inspiring, as always.

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:absolut: The best things in life aren't free :beer:

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October 26, 2008
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