Words.

The rising and the falling,

the floating and the sinking,
of these carefully calculated and assembled letters called words.
An exchange; given and received.
It fills up the room seeping into every corner and crevice.

Words,
How easily you allow them to escape from you
The sweet melody and soft harmonies fall lightly like dewdrops
The heat lingers on my skin
Each syllable embracing my body and I feel its warmth.

Words,
How they fill the distance between us
Building bridges and passages,
A private highway from your mouth to my heart
Removing oceans, evaporating seas
And all you have to do is simply
...Speak.
I am filled to the brim, ripping at the seams because of you and your...

Words,
Hungry I ate, Thirsty I drank
Consuming every promise, every apology,
every declaration and excuse.
Every thought and idea you planted in my mind like seeds-
watered by my love and my every affection shone like the sun.
Your words grew,
They grew and they sprouted. They sprouted but never blossomed.
And I ask myself, Why?

Words,
The staleness in the air: recycled, reused, remastered.
They lie there cold, flat, and unmoving.
And I try to breathe life back into them
energies transferred, draining me without a moment’s notice.
Breathe.

How could I have survived on nothing but, words?
When yours came fat free with no sugar,
low on truth and half the respect
My reflection looking back- Thin. Frail. Fragile.
All because I fed on nothing but,
Words.
They come at no expense for you,
but they charge double to me-
investments high at the interest of my heart.
Sorry, no return policy. But, delivery? Sure that’s free.
No warning given, transactions are final.

Words,
While yours float like air, mine sink like gravity
Carrying the weight of the ache in my chest,
the pain in my eyes,
the struggle in my lungs.
Bringing us back down to reality:
That all you ever give me are words.
Which are nothing but carefully calculated letters
different combinations serving some sort of purpose;
Your happiness not mine.
I hear it, and the notes are flat. The chords are sharp.

The deafening noise of silence that exists from Point you to point me.

Now these....
These are words, but they are mine,

Though your satisfaction I cannot guarantee.

Words.
Mine may not build bridges and pathways, roads or tall towers,
But they uncover the dirt and rough surfaces-
The mess. The cracks. Imbalanced.
Imperfect but home grown and organic.
No frills, No cheap thrills.
       

You say what we are is priceless, but you just measured us in words
Which are nothing but carefully calculated letters, put together to sound better.

I have no need for words, for they limit and constrict
That which exists.....deep within me.

So I'll remain silent and timorous. Giving you back what's due. 

The Bare. The Bold. That which is anchored in truth:
That I am worth more than your words.