Muted Tapestries
Some, just can't hold
superficial conversation.
The empty words
would scream the volumes
of the truer selves -
Drown out the meaningless
exchange,
Cry out into hollow winds
From depths abandoned
-- even in vacancy...
The spirit often rests
in the eyes.
Here, words are useless
against the sovereignty
of the heart,
And few greater truths exist
Than that which is spoken
in decibels of silence --
Even those things
The unruliest of members
does not utter...
Even death
has an expression here.
But -
Until its' final soliloquy
rises up
To ignite the vacant stare
By which these lids
are closed to rest,
There will dwell inside
these muted tapestries
All that words resist --
Wholly hooded,
Silently shrouded,
The only hour of that
unveiling
Would have your face
before me,
Where parted lips
would whisper
The taste of timeless
lovers' kiss...
MSV
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