Not Even a Whisper
It’s still no matter that desire exists, I keep lying to myself.
Surely something must distract your sound sleep as it does for me.
That unlocked door has remained ajar for so long now,
a little light still glimmers against the ingress of doubt.
I remain indignant, stuck in this emotional vacuum devoid of what matters, screaming, bawling, through the hubbub, alone in quietude with not even a whisper to keep me content.