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Whispers Lost

~ Words chased shadows into night looking for an angel lost among dirty streets ~





One day the kiss will come
and you will see my eyes
dancing rhymes around your smile,
creating words for you to keep,
in a second of a million glances,
kept quietly within my voice.
The silent embrace,
wanting to sing those words into the trees
I so adore. The leaves will fall and drift
one to another, leaving the branches bare,
but I will still see you there,in the wind,
breathing through me like a tree,
swaying with the melody of your fingers
intertwined with mine,
walking down roads yet to come,
directions not defined
...together.




Sometimes the rain is a blessing
it hides the tears we don't want
anyone to know we have
the thing that is ours
to give or take
drowning around cheeks
that long to be kissed
and touched with fingers
that will leave their
marks in gentle unseen ways
and the cold...brings life
to our skin when its numbed
from too much sun.


And then there is this thing
this aching inside that eats
away insides. It leaves
that hole that burns when
salt is rubbed the wrong way.
Hello we say, how are you?
Fine replies lying to small voices
that want to find a place
that sells watermelon sherbert.
Run around the holding on
with pixie shoes and red ribbons,
big balloons that glisten
when the sun smiles just so
before the moon changes
eyes from blue to silver.




Morning crosses over night
eating away the whispers
that leave traces of salt
on stones still moist
from melting frost fingers.

The sweat cradles itself
into Christmas bulbs
invading broken windows
that will be cleaned
from the inside one day,


in hopes of touching beauty
to the altar that never sees
rain long before its hidden
carefully behind satin lingerie.
This voice that echoes

through haunted chambers
sings sweetly and seduces
even the birds to linger just a bit
longer in hopes to catch the secret
to its melody, joy and sadness

existing within the same breath,
deeper, still humid wounds soothed
with just a silent sound of cat paws.



In the course of flying, angels tend to fall over oil stained rainbows painting whispers with their fingers through windswept skies


Flowing from my lips
warm secrets in your mind
lift clouds from sandy beaches
coarse against my toes....
air filling my lungs
with your kiss
your voice dancing
through my body
I crept into your dreams
last night didn't speak
from noticing
the way you bite your lip
is a lot like me hiding
in the corner waiting
to be found among
sweet shades of gray.


I close my eyes listening to the music my fingers make as the color of sound silently creeps.



To my left nothing but cliffs,
beyond that blue and sky
mixing together becoming
one solid plane.
I could walk on that,
I thought, then the words
stung my face, bruised my skin,
killed the song I was forming
deep in the underground cavern,
so quickly as to avoid being trapped
inside by the tide.
Through the mist, blue and sky
mixed together as one,
I could fly to that, I thought.









All writings original by Kim Mayhall. copyright@1999
Please do not use without my permission.


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WhsprBreth@aol.com

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