Voices in my heart

 

Sometimes I hear voices

in my heart, verses

screaming to get out,

bursting wildly

to be heard across the grind.

But to blurt them loud

wouldn't be right,

they need to be spoken gently

to the stars at night,

for these are whispers

of love that never need

to shout.

 

I try to grip the words

before they rip a hole

through my heart.

 

Sometimes they

echo within, like a face

screaming

into a chamber

of mirrors,

glassy memories

reverberating in unison

across every part

of this cavernous being.

Cracks forming over my tongue,

as the shattering chorus rumbles on.

 

I try to catch the sounds

before they leave my lips.

 

Sometimes they fizzle

against the back of the throat,

dancing like raindrops

falling on a soft lake.

Sherbet fountains

spouting memories of a dream,

 

other times, they sink

to the depths of my stomach.

A stone of crushed hope,

leaving me bloated

on their ever-expanding growth.

The rippling waves of grief

crashing as the stone

lands with a splash.

 

I try to hold back the waves

before they saturate my inner land.

 

Sometimes they sit

heavy in the pit of my soul

like anchors dragged

across the silt and sand.

Sometimes they bubble up,

frothy eruptions of hope.

Seismic ruptures

of seawater and salt. The bitter tang

that I taste upon my tongue,

gagging at the way it

makes me feel

 

sad.

 

I try to hold

onto the words

so that I can

write them down

and set them free,

feathered wings beating

some sense into me.