whispers in the dark

every so often her voice whispers to me out of the darkness of night... it's silent for so long I usually don't even recognize the sound, but it always comes back to me... and a sense of hope stirs up, unwanted and pushed away, but nevertheless, always present... hers is a voice of sorrow tinged with joy, of happiness tainted with melancholy, or is it my own clouded vision that sees what I want to see there... impossibility meets incredulity... reason does not always have to win over fantasy... infatuation is an extension of imagination, that so dear to my soul... but her faery voice always brings concern along with it, concern that my age old nemesis returns, I want what I cannot have, I lust for the forbidden... my heart is clouded by lust, or is it clouded by hope, that loneliness and darkness can be driven back and a bright new day of love can shine through... in the end I will be alone with nothing but whispers of an imagined past to haunt me... all I can do is smile at her and act as if nothing is different, which in truth, nothing is... hopes and dreams, whispers and darkness... she'll never know...