whispers


love may be poison
wrapped up in ribbons,
a slow suffocation of all that seemed shining,
a promise of dark dreams
stinging with terror,
as violence lurks behind yesterday’s flowers

she is cut to the bone,
with whispers and smiles.
this is not love, this is raw, wicked power.
it is rape, with soft words
leaving torn, jagged wounds
on the bright, bloody shards
of the soul of his lover.

the shadow of fear, falls cold as the night
as hearts search in darkness,
for truth without lies.

(c) 2020 BGeiger

dying, with sparkles


there is no filling the empty soul.
it closes up around itself and refuses to take nourishment.
nothing is right,
nothing lights the darkness.

the soul needs to sing and dance and play, joyously.
if joy has gone of its own accord
or been sold to the highest bidder
the soul will starve.

take back the joy.
let go of the shiny substitute.
death hides in the sparkles.


(c) 2020 BGeiger