voices are noises

at least i thought they were

i did anything to avoid.

voices of hatred

voices of anger

voices of silliness

voices of hunger

on and on and on they played

like a broken cassette.

i hated it so much

so much i want to die

just to pluck my ears out and hide

pull my hair over and block.

i hated those whispers

in the corners of the class

chatting away about certain random matters

were they about me, did not dare to ask.

but then, one day

i started listening to what the crowd say

oh maybe i have gone mad

oh no i'm sure i'm not that.

in those million voices

if i were to avoid

pray i never will hear his voice

that deep tone tenor pitch

has given me that glitch

that soft so sweet a sound

say the prettiest things i can ever find

makes my heart crazily pounds

makes me flustered even with my quiet voice.

everyday, by that i mean every hour

i long to hear his words

one or two or three, four

does it matter, i don't need more

but it's addictive i guess

because my head keeps replaying his sentences

his soft and warm and sense-full

captures and bewitches me

may i ever pull out from it?

he will never notice

as i silently listen

his voice is the only thing

i could hear in the abyss,

wishing i can keep it

hold close to my ears

for hours, for days, for centuries.

so close yet will never be mine

for i can never approach him

unlike him that tenderness of voices

mine is quiet, petit et timide.