Whispers dangle like dewdrops
perched perilously on life’s vast,
timeworn lattice;
unsaid, they throb beneath the skin,
a ghostly heartbeat in an empty room.

Words, poised like falcons,
sharp-clawed yet unseen, hover at the
brim of thought, never diving through
the air of utterance.

In these labyrinthine corridors of breath,
where words curl up, fetal, unfledged—
moments unpainted on the canvas of our
lips,
but etched deep in the parchment
of our marrow.

Here, the script continues blank, yet
replete—
a pantomime of sentiments, unspoken
reveries spiraling in mute ballet.

Beneath the skin, where emotions swirl,
nebulous,
a galaxy of unsaid confessions orbits a
black hole,
Where light succumbs to the gravity
of restraint,
each swallowed syllable a star,
collapsing unseen.

Here lies the landscape of internal exile,
where words are exiles, refugees in their
own land,
banished by the tyranny of tongues
tied into silent obedience,
a porcelain delicacy of a spoken word
shattering on impact.

Amidst the clutter of halted dialogues,
a narrative unfurls, fragments of the self,
scattered like puzzle pieces,
a collage of hidden messages
that bleed from the canvas into
the periphery of perception,
grasped only by the keenest eye.

This discourse, peaks not only of content
but form,
how the curvature of empty spaces
molds our reception of the spoken,
an autobiography written in the margins
of a dialogue,
where the true story lies in
what is not said but deeply felt.


#writcopoemchallenge #writcopoem #writco #poetry #napowrimo #sanhita @sage

© Aylin