"Let me send them to you"
You never did
That was the last time we really spoke, you know?
A few, tired words as the sun readied itself
For another day
Your world is made up of words
You pluck them like ripe fruit
Arrange them like constellations
Weave them together like yarn
And yet, when I sit next to you
Look for the tiniest morsel of
Hope? Interest? Reciprocation?
Acknowledgment of what once was
What could have been?
I don't even know
You have no words to give me
None at all
Word of the day: logophile
a lover of words
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