Words are not my friends
They trick me into thinking, I understand.
Then she goes and changes the meanings.
Why did she have to go and do that?
Each word:
a single match, burning solo.
Each time repeated,
rewritten
changes meaning,
leaving a slight hint of sulfur.
Words are not my friends
They expose.
They are cruel,
frightening
tear,
and without reason they cause me to care,
to love
then turn right back around
and cut.
Words are not my friends.
So don’t speak, my love.
Don’t tell me you love me.
Or that, it’s just your love is different than mine.
Don’t say a thing
Don’t try to explain.
Dragging out all those memories
and souvenirs.
Just turn around;
walk away.
Beautifully penned the reality of life with words!
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Thanks, it was your own ‘words’ poem that reminded me that I had these. Still looking for the first one, which maybe lost in all the notebooks, packed in the milk crates in my basement.
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