Whispers

It doesn’t start with a bang.

Single whispers filter in;

The soft hiss of wind through a crack in the glass—

Melodious howls that soothe and caress

The wounds that you carry, dark hole in your chest;

Perhaps you should slide open the window—just a crack…

They come in on the wind, wreathe round your ears,

Slide round your shoulders, flick away tears,

“We’re with you,” you need this, someone finally hears,

They all understand your great bitterness, fears…

“We get you” “We know you”

“We love you” “We’ll grow with you”

You’re comforted by these murmured assurances.

You must invite in these new guests to the house,

Give them a bed to keep their tongues close.

To the guest bedroom, good,

“But we’ll never all fit…”

Sinking stomach, cheeks aflame,

You’re ashamed of the way you can’t provide for your friends

That tantalize you with soft whispers and threads:

“We get you” “We know you”

“We love you” “We’ll grow with you”

Your feet carry on to the door down the hall;

Form sleeping, deep breathing, like nothing is wrong,

And nothing is wrong, now your friends curl round you,

Squeeze round your emptiness, soon then they’ll fill you;

Breath cool on wounds, yes this is what must happen.

Your friends need a room, what else can you do?

She’s all grown up, now she needs to take flight;

So selfish of her to take advantage of you;

She’ll just have to vacate this room with a view.

“This is nice” “This is good”

“Oh we do love your company”

“But we’re still oh so crowded…”

“What other space do you have?”

Their need drives you onward to a door on the left;

Pink teddy bears, stripes, oh your guests think this is nice,

Cool skin on burnt scars, yes, she’ll just go with the other.

No need for a fuss, your companions need better

Commitment from you, it’s the least you could do.

And they fill up the room, and they whisper to you:

“We get you” “We know you”

“We love you” “We’ll grow with you”

And your friends do look bigger, they will need more space—

“That’s alright,” they all say. “Don’t you worry” “We’ll teach you”

“We’ll declutter your life” “Rid those sharp beaks that bite you”

Taking their words deep to heart, you climb up the stairs;

The master bedroom is last, and you beat down your fears;

Your friends know you better than he ever did—

At least that’s what they say, and you believe them.

How could it be false, after all that they’ve done?

Soothed bitter thoughts, balmed aching wounds,

Yes, he must go too, it’s the last thing to do;

Then the house will be full of just new friends and you;

There will be no distractions, and your pain will all heal

As these soft voices hisssss sweet comforts in ear;

Forked tongues lap up blood that still seeps from your sores,

And bodies coil round to fill the void at your core.

It doesn’t start with a bang—no, it’s a slow realization

That your bed’s full of snakes, you thought friends wrapped around you,

But scales rub raw the scabbed sores, and they rupture.

Your soul crushed to pulp, spirit empty as ever.

Eyes sunken, limbs frozen,

Their venom’s inside you.

But what you can’t figure out is,

When did they bite you?