This war was fought in whispers.

She whispered something, conspiring to make her unlikely enemy fall.

One hand cupped, around the faceless face next to her, gently

like it might have been a kiss; under different circumstances.

And more than all the guns or knives

this whisperwar

destroyed more than could be rebuilt

bricks and mortar

would not salvage reputations or mend the trusts

the shadow of doubt cast

like a dove flitting across a white cloud--

was it really there?

A possibility is now permanent in all these minds.

Truth or truths or lies; the brilliant opponent has now made everyone

Lose/ The Lost.