Monday, April 18, 2011


I sense it,
Soft whispers on the wind,
Unspoken pain from lips
Long dead.

I see the tears
Slide down transparent porcelien skin
And fall upon the white lace bodice
Of a virgin white dress.

Your story was lost,
A song never sung
To ears longing to hear.

I share your pain,
Pain that is not mine,
And your story I will tell,
To ears that need to hear.

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