can we talk about the whispers?

the thing everyone fears to say. the things people are too ashamed to shout. those are the things that break them down. the reason they fall. because they forget those are just words whimpered.

whispers, can we talk about the whispers?

we hear them. they bounce off the walls and ring in our ears. a doubt, that shouldn’t be heard, crashes through wavering ideals. there is nothing more threatening than a muttered doubt. 

the whispers, can we talk about the whispers?

everyone knows. everyone has an opinion; they don’t care about mine.  i’m young, they don’t think i’ve thought it through. i have. i run the risk of being broken. i know the risk of being broken.

but the whispers, can we talk about the whispers? 

Slumped against the wall weeping. This is my mourning. I don’t remember a night so empty and full of tears. The world has dealt a blow I can’t withstand. This is the end, the beginning, everything I claimed I wanted and all that I most feared. Victory and defeat in one shattered glass. I wonder if I can survive, if I can breathe. Fear and awe trapped in one moment of perfect disaster. Pounding ears and tear stained eyes. Fingers rushing to release the emotions of the moment with letters and words and books and libraries. Let them bring dreams to those people who read them instead of finding me again. 

The car blazed down the road,

Windows down and hopes up.

The rain came down,

The windows rolled up.

It was hot that day,

too hot for a windless cross-country drive.

The windows rolled down,

the rain slapped smiling faces.