Funereal Whispers.

Lost and I will not be found again
Like water melting into thirsty sand.
Or words breathed but left unattended
Or perhaps turned away.

Failed and I will not triumph again
Like precious silk but weak at each thread.
Or a pen that stopped squirting ink
on the last page of life.

Defeated by none but self.
With no will to live a tear-drop more
Or a smile that tried but never
manifested on your chipped lips.
Or kind things that only ever your
thoughts left but never expressed.

Am I even a blip on your canvas?
A fading spot of carcass perhaps.
Or maybe nothing but a numb
thorn to curse and pluck out to shun away.


5 thoughts on “Funereal Whispers.

    • Thank you, Ma’am. That is what poetry is for, isn’t it? To evoke an emotion here and a sentiment there. Glad this poem, and that line more specifically, did just that for you.

      Thanks again for stopping by.
      Hope you have a wonderful day ahead.

  1. You are much more than a blip on a canvas, we all are, we just need to find the piece of painting we can call home, find it embrace it and you’ll be home…

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