Only the Night Hears


A dark night
sky shedding light from clouds filtering a moon grudgingly risen
and we walk
trying to be brave and cheerful and have conversation
like normal people
like friends
a journey of shadowed rocks and rustles
and a quick stop
wait what was that
laugh with tremble hidden and
we sing
and only the night hears our song
later much later
too late
sitting with feet dangling
on the white rocky edge
we laugh we sing
we sing to the night
trying to hide
how uncomfortable is the underknowledge
the simmering realization
that the beckoning below
the taunt of the heights
would finally win
seize the demon sleeping within and drag him
into startled awareness
and rinsed with adrenaline
let fly the singer into the final scraping song
with a startle of wings and crescendo of dull thuds
I backtracked
walked the moon glazed trail alone
softly singing
only the night hears my song
only the night.

jaye tomas @2014


About chimerapoet

I write. I write a lot. A. LOT. There are times I am half blind with a sentence ricocheting off the walls of my stupid, cant be shut off to save my life, brain. I am miserable until I get it down on paper. Punch it up a bit. Usually cross out half of it. And then breathe. Relax. Only to do it all again..... But I just thought that was me. How I am. Not a writer....noooo...not me. Writers are.....writing people. People Who Write. REALLY write. Write things that matter. All grown up very important things. I am just a scribbler of sorts. And I was/am content with that....if it's true, well then....a scribbler am I. Until the thought wormed its way in to my brain (the furtive sneaky bitch) that maybe...just maybe...that is writing. My style. My strange way. But....still writing. So here I am at the dance. Not sure I know any of the moves and the music is entirely mine. But.....only one way to find out. Would you care to join me?
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One Response to Only the Night Hears

  1. I like the ‘wait- what was that’. The night does hear everything – it’s a secret.

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