Death has no voice
Evana Vleck
Death has no voice
And my eyelashes, when they flutter have no sound
Your touch to my face is gentle and tender; it’s a winding staircase leading to a secret pink room full of old books, broken glass and heavy curtains covered in dust, smelling like dried roses that are still very much alive…
I’m covered up in you
And filled with you as well
I wear ruffles and plain lipstick and pack my cigarettes inside of my ivory clutch…the wind agrees with me
And your skin…it’s flawless, it caresses my mind and pollutes me…making me an outcast as the wind blows through me
I’m filled with you, and you don’t even know
So full and so delighted to remain
Alone
And you don’t even know
You shouldn’t know, because your innocence is far beyond mine
And your eyes sparkle with sincere acceptance when I smile up to you, I can’t let you know
And prefer if you don’t
So let it just be an unspoken, unforgotten, forever breathing…what if
Buried in dead flowers, lamented over for hours.
