when i am nothing more but a hollow shell,
a carcass if you'd like, of my former self,
will you still whisper to my walls at night
and will they carry your voice to my ears
like a sweet soliloquy of sorts?
will your voice get caught in the wind?
will it make the windows shake, in the
midst of a storm, will it cry to be heard,
and remain when all else is lost?
whisper to me, when i am nothing more
but a hollow shell, a carcass if you'd like,
of my former self.
YOU ARE READING
set free
Poetrya cluster of thoughts, hidden below the very folds of my subconscious
