The wind always speaks in whispers.

But why do you whisper
what I want to hear
shouted?

Yoou tell me you love me
yet it is all in whispers.

Like tiny love notes
left by ignorant children
with undecided minds.

I do not want hidden notes
nor whispers.

I want to love you
outside
like the roaring wind
holding hands
linking
not anymore in whispers.

But all you do is whisper
between the sheets
between my breasts
my caves
pocket the echoes
the wetness of my whispers
outside the sheets
when you leave.

I hoard the whispers
till it roars in my ears
to deafen.

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