The Voice That Killed Us

i write poetry in my head to drown out your voice.
he seeks love outside the realm of your voice, denying your love in that silent rebellion of his.
she finds love in her mirror - in those two [premature] images of her, not yet fully broken by your voice yet not quite whole, or ever will be.

and all the time, whilst we do our little dance-acts around the storm that you casually [and ceaselessly] brew, in my heart of hearts, i finally willed your voice away - the silent tears that streamed down into my food muted that of yours, as you saw in my eyes how truly hurt i was with your mindlessness, your violent rages, your apparent selfishness and your inability to express your love the way we yearned it to be.