Weaving Silence

I hate the silence. The silence brings forward those dark emotions. In the silence, I create these pieces.

Dancing alone in the dark,

Silence is my muse,

Weaving between my fingers,

Stretching to my toes,

 

Empty lives are my canvas,

Painting with the pain I live,

Oozing from this blackened heart,

On the tip of my paintbrush,

 

Flowers curled into softened hair,

Pink petals bright in the sunshine,

Crushed beneath fingertips,

Falling beneath passing footsteps,

 

The demon in the waters,

Casting her song to the sailors,

Beckoning to my trembling soul,

Kinship amongst the broken,

 

Stuck in the spiders’ web,

Caught in a trap unseen,

Lost against the silver lines,

Waiting for the music of night,

 

Silence being the master muse,

Striking tunes in the blackened hearts,

Weaving through her trembling fingers,

A smile haunting her sleeping face.