Whispers Caught in Down

Flitting beats echo through the worn cloth of the bed spread,
reverberating through steel springs,
cheap foam,
thin polyester,
creating a rhythm of the tale of a boy, blinking his way into
a legitimate longing for sweet
honest eyes and
well-shaped teeth:
The story brings itself to light in the medium of
words spoken softly but swiftly into a pillow.
Everyone is watching,
the stars,
though they often dance freely across her retinas,
sit quietly listening to her soft whispers,
her words that should have come out quieter
and thankfully didn’t.

This beat,
thrumming through the particles of a
plenty-washed cotton shirt,
pushes nervousness through the bloodstream
as some pulsing energetic light.
Restlessness advocating a growing knot;
this energetic phrase that rolls and
fills the mouth to the point of bursting
and is only let out
in a sigh
blocked by a thick feather pillow.

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