Nainful Voice

It was only what i could remember
– the voice
The voice from you to me
I was enclosed in its shrouds
With Sheol in between
Gliding lazily for the last time
To the alter of stones
Mine? not mine
a voice soaked in tears
But washed in divine tone

First published in INK YARD

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.