Whispers roaming,

a broken wing of the bird that once stole the worm early in the morning,

the light of your candle,

the sin on your bed sheets,

you bring me to orgasm,

yet you don’t see me,

whispers roaming,

the broken wing now healed,

the sea of your moaning,

the wetness,

the decaying,

the wisdom of my nothingness,

the sin on my hands,

we float together,

down a sea of disease.