Literature
Final Whisper
In the dark ,
holding to the silence...
Eyes flinch in fear
and look blindly around...
Buried in the ash
of nights long gone,
streaks of crimson
keep running down my face.
Slipping through
and in between my fingers,
the remains of memories fall,
dissolved in vitriol.
Counting heartbeats
louder than the life, itself
slower and slower
the clock cries
midnight down.
Keeping close
shadows and whispers
of the past
dance like ghosts.
They laugh and wail
under the dying,
flickering light.