Whispers Poem by grace mariner

And your greatest fear is that you will someday do harm to me.
But that cannot be.
That pain is future oriented...
not now, never now.
I hear your voice in the stillness of my room.
You whisper my name, remark about my taste, my smell,
the softness of my skin as I feel your tongue trace down between my breasts.
You are within arms reach,
one thousand miles away.
But I am stuck in quicksand!
If I move, I sink deeper!
So I remain still,
listening for that whisper.
No grief yet.
Oh, but when you go, so goes that whisper,
and all that is soft and lovely to my heart.
The air itself will be heavy and leaden and push me in deeper.
There will be no color, no fragrance, no beauty.
No whispers.
I will not resist the pull of the quicksand,
anymore than I could have resisted you