Just a murmur, a whisper, that was all it was. Passed like an injured bird, cupped between your hands, palms hollowed so not to crush its wings heart a juddering drum beneath feathers. It sang to me like you did. It gave me life. It’s Quadrille night over at the dVerse Poets Pub. Tonight’s prompt is ‘murmur’.
How often have you woken a bolt in our bed. Eyes wide, lungs strangled fighting for breath, my watchman, my lover, my eyes in the dark, how is it that night now comes to bore holes in your heart? Once upon another life you say. You paced these streets, these city streets, let lanterns guide your way. But now we have no lanterns, and now you have no light, and all my watchman is, is afraid of the night.