Voided Souls And Graveyard Hearts.

Your whisper is a hurricane,
A whirlwind spinning in my brain.
An echo resounding throughout the years.
An avalanche of invisible tears.
Volcanic emotions begin to stir then wake.
Every part of me trembles in the quake.
A devastation none can see
for the wreckage lives alone in  me.
A storm is brewing behind my eyes
It threatens to rain but suddenly dies.
The thunder goes unheard,
the lightening unseen.
The feeling fades away
like some vague dream.
There is a ghost town
living where we called home
For my memory has fobidden me roam
back to the places we used to share
and all of the faces that still exist there.
For the space I loved, the space where I grew
Is filled with everything that outlived you.
I say nothing, sound no alarm
for after the storm is promised the calm.
My sky darkens and I feel the waves.
as I pass by that yard the one filled with graves.
This is not something anyone can prevent or heal.
The may well know the pain but it's not mine they feel.
You are dead and the world is a ghost.
My heart a void without the host.

J.E.P Wilson