Who Am I To Think That?

~Melissa Wernke

Who am I to think that
such sweet words could
ever fall from your glistening lips,
and onto my aching ears.

Deafened I hear them not
or blinded I search
yet this goes unnoticed
As I go unseen.

And in the morning
lying in my arms
to even dedicate an evil
is still better than a void...

Always bleeding for you
aching to hear you say my name
but all I hear is deafness
and all I see is inky night.

Static silent and bound
to your side I stay
stealing glimpses unnoticed while
salt crumbles in my wounds.

Sinking to a depth of your soul
where She sits upon your past,
you speak sparkling words
dripping with honey and dew.

She smiles and touches your cheek
you bow your head and pull her close
She runs her hands wildly through your hair.
I am invisible. A mist. A shadow.

The sweet smell of lovers mingles
and I bask in an odor of despair
A voyeur to a past
that you think purged of life, forgotten.

But She's alive in you still.
In your words.
A library in Her name
whilst I stand mute in a shadow.

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