Silence

Talking to him is like dying in its most extravagent form:

gradually (the way a wave chips at a stubborn rock,

each word recedes with infintcimal amounts of me attached).

If I listen carefully enough, I can feel the sharp, consistent pull

his speech reflects - the most fatal form of magnetism.

Not pain, but only lack of will exists within this slow execution,

the word-waves buoy me aloft and there I float upon a tranquil sea,

aware that I am dying, but too at peace to care

until his voice, drowned out by chaos, slips away

and I, an unmanned vessel, sink beneath the still waters of silence.

 

 

Reviews

[Rebecca Rogers]

Your poetry has depth to it:

the word-waves buoy me aloft and there I float upon a tranquil sea,
aware that I am dying, but too at peace to care
unitl his voice, drowned out by chaos, slips away
and I, an unmanned vessel, sink beneath the still waters
of silence.


I love the imagery. Although I'm not too sure about that last line just saying "of silence." Maybe it could be added to the line before it? You had a couple of typos too. Otherwise, it's great! :)