THE VOICE

no sweet sung syllables
from passion's lips can spring,
they have been forever buried...
immersed in painful shame
of a common sameness shared,
drowned in the knowledge
that it was not MY voice,
but only that voice, THE voice,
you roused in cherished care.

for i who had no voice at all
before you raised my lioness roar
err thought my exclamations of love
unique melodies sung for you alone,
yet you say the voice is not rare,

it belongs to a universal goddess
the culmination of desire
the spastic shout of all sated women
without variable or originality
and you know this is true, for
i am not the first you gave voice to,
that hearing it was familiar employ

so now i lay robbed of an infant joy
i once found in my jubilant cries.
i am fresh again forsaken, broken,
betrayed by my own song of bliss
my newborn voice now mute abyss.

so in sorrow i turn to the wall in tears
to swallow back what i had lost for years.
silenced deep by your words, it did depart,
leaving voiceless echo in my heart
through caverns made by him before
my passion silent evermore.


© 2007 Inner Beauty