My Mosquito Wife
And then she hums-
My mosquito wife, persistent, near,
Her tiny presence threading the dark,
Her song a constant vibration I cannot ignore.
At times, words fail-
They don’t make sense,
A jumble in my mind,
I ignore them, I do not dwell,
I do not turn them over, do not dissect.
They become mere noise,
A hum I cannot silence,
A vibration threading through all I hear.
Her wings hum, delicate but unrelenting,
A rhythm threading through the hollow space,
Like words circling, piercing, lingering,
Impossible to silence, impossible to dismiss.
She speak in endless streams,
Their meanings slipping away,
I nod, I follow,
But am I truly listening?
Or only pretending to understand?
The night becomes a battleground-
Where silence struggles to exist,
Meaning once grounded now adrift,
While her buzzing grows,
A constant presence, shaping my attention.
Sometimes, I feel angry ,
Something stirring deep within,
A quiet resistance against hollow echoes.
Even innocent words hover and pierce,
Filling hollow spaces,
Becoming part of this persistent hum,
An unyielding, tiny race
That threads through mind and night alike.
Her power lies in subtlety,
In patience, in persistence-
A reminder that even the smallest presence
Can reshape quiet,
Can stir thought,
Can claim the mind.
Words hold power, I know-
But not always, frankly speaking,
Not every sound, not every voice,
Carries weight, or truth, or meaning.
The ears remain open,
The mind skims the surface,
Aware of everything, understanding little,
Until dawn’s quiet release.
And still she hums,
My mosquito wife,
Persistent, alive, intimate,
A vibration I cannot silence,
And perhaps, would not want to.

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