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Whenever I speak to her,
I do it aloud
to break her silence prolonged,
sullen silence prevails
in her mind, cacophonous
deafening her life,
creating severe chaos from nowhere
that breeds the insects
of deep despair, unfair gloom
eating into her zeal, vitality of life,
infecting her gullible heart,
her mind and the face,
swampy, swollen with blisters
in deathless crimson.
I do speak to her
but in my untrodden mind
holding tears in my heart
stuffing her bitter void
with my succor saccharine.
Whenever I speak to her,
I do it aloud,
love-coated words from my heart
to sow seeds of joy into her barren life
so as to sprout up
veracity of life, more cloud cast
with unwanted sulkiness
too heavy to wear
on the face in deep deluge,
undue in her heart
her blackish blues are darker
more gloomy, blacker
than the darkness of nights
in the sullen solitude of sulky sky.
I do speak to her
but in my heart
holding her past in my present
stretching my arms in time
to capture some rays of hope and joy
to illumine her future
with brightness of loving light
inner and outer, gleam and brighter.
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