He Whispered Her

Over the greying hills,
Leached of all their life,
There came a pall of mist,
As wide as the ocean's deep,
As dark as it once was,
The air grew darker still,
Brought a rank of fallen glory,
And the wishes that we reap.

Don't you listen to your dreams?
To the words so softly swallowed,
In the,
Whole?
Don't you listen to your eyes?
So drained of colour and of love,
You're just the one she's dreaming of.

Cast aside desire you would have condemned,
Cascades of irony within you, weakly stemmed,
Take a blazing torch to blessings in your heart,
All for love of her,
(A siren)
Since falling is an art.

To think a face so sweet,
Could clothe a monster!
To think a thing so small,
Could house so great a sinner,
To think a bitterness so deep,
Could crawl yet deeper!
To think one so cruelly loved,
Could stand to lose her.

Between the lances of the rain,
You make your living,
Between the poles of brightness
And the light still brighter,
You crawl amongst them, lizard in,
Between two angels,
And one so mercilessly 'yours',
And yet you,
Stand to fight her?

You shouldn't listen to your lusts,
To the words so maimed and bitten,
In the,
Hole?
Don't you listen to your tongue,
So sapped of meaning and of lies,
You're just the one you wish she dreamed of!

To think the one so close,
Could be the one that wants her,
To think those eyes so sweet,
Could hide a heartsick monster.