his words tattooed relentless onto your heart
your reply carved with chisels into mine
words
lost in words
lost in words
thoughts forgotten
the audience understands
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stand alone
stand alone
if you must
remember the words
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holy words
holy words
the words with which you blessed me
holy words
the words with which you saved me
holy words
the words you called as the lifeboat found me
I cannot fill my heart with words
I cannot fill my heart with words
but still I try
recycle the words
recycle the words
words recycle
reuse the words
the words
reduce
Your words burned
Your words burned.
“We need to talk” scorched,
“It’s not you” set my blood to seethe
and
all those words about finding yourself
were fiery nails through my heart.
One day I hope
a “maybe”, “perhaps another try”
will extinguish flames and salve again the steaming wounds.
other hemispheres
in my head in my heart in my hands
my words are heat
on the page on the screen
they fade to cool
take them in, breathe them in
the heat of the sun
of my head of my heart of my hands
will come to you
will heat you through
when words
when words take breath
when words
when words
when words take
when words take breath
I hear my words in my voice
I hear my words in my voice.
Of course.
But if you then roll them round your tongue,
smooth sour sweet pebbles of thought I have,
are they still mine or are they now yours and yours only?
There lies the man who will not hear his words
repeated by another.
He closes his ears and eyes.
Another’s interpretation must be
of and in itself
a wrong one
and this dissonance will misshape the future.
But I am willing to take a risk.
Words past written are the past
and your voice overtaking is just one of many.
I shall sit and record and listen and wonder
and perhaps never write again.
