Soundless
It was so much easier to be loved than to have to do any of the desperate work of loving.
Patrick Ness — Release (a novel)
Soundless
I whispered
And you whispered back
I think it was morning
Wrongly, perhaps
And the light filtered through windows
They weren’t mine
Demands and flames
Hot memories of you
Quick pressure, you knew it would work
On me, at least
Such weakness
Such submission; only ever yours
You were on top from word go
Just what I wanted
Marks burnt
Remnants of our mess
The fire that we started with fever
So quick to appear
All of it ruined
Fast and dark
Extinguished before the light returned
Perhaps it was morning
I whispered
And you whispered back.
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