A Silent Soul

. . .it's been long way to long silence sits at the tip of the tongue then I run from the night her dark our songs that held on tight to what once was or is neither helpless nor wrong . . . it was me holding on to your breath lying down in the many faces of death but still all alone with the rain each drop descending developing a bubble padded to keep inside the pain . . . I heard you in meadow past the way in places merry souls once played and played and played a note one would never let slip away I slid and I hid in puddles deeper than the day made of stone and stick chained with locks one could not have picked I lived or rather died in the muck and the drear holding nothing close nor near no one spoke whispers drowned I but disappeared tongue obscure it could barely lick salt of tiny tears . . . life I hear will never wait with chains or locks or pearly gates