What was left unsaid

words unwanted left my lips
and shimmered dimly far
a feather floating caught a whisper

uncertain angels hovering high
above the muttering mouths
took flight of fancy into fire

to craft a temple in the sand
afloat upon the salt
where wind would shift its subtle sound

an intricate design inlaid
with the blueness of truth
but still I was afraid to say


This is an almost-ballad, a structure I specifically invented for the occasion…
I have all but given up on the prompts, but I did drop a colour into the second to last line just for the sake of it.


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