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Too Quiet

My presence is hidden in your Oblivion. The last drops of stoicism evaporate before the morning light.

Hopeful perspective falling away, lost in your dark matter. Your dirty chatter bleeding through the fabricated walls.

I quietly wait for the opportunity. My silence is calculated; an assassin doesn’t make any noise.

Published by David W. Jones

David is a writer and blogger who enjoys creating literary expressions about everyday life. He is a published poet and currently doing reviews, creative writing, and storytelling. David's interests include narrating point-of-view scenarios, documenting non-fiction, and writing scripts for film and television.

Creative Writing
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