Catastrophes spilling over my lips. Even my silenced words I would love to process aloud, in your direction, have grown tiny teeth and now nibble on my mind. Pray tell? I can tell you nothing no longer for the incriminating things I imagined we could do have become solo acts by you solely and are being used against me. I am a hostage to the words you expressed to me and I will hold what you said in the corner there.. wondering of its expiration date, like the ticking time bomb of a everlasting gobbstopper. Questioning irony is clawing at the realistic breaking of hearts and that pit of my stomach becomes wave when images, memories of you stroll across my temples and lay softly in the hallows of my pupils. Everything goes on, organically. No restrictions have be bound to your obsolete embellishments on my life however, like crisp leaves fall from trees in the autumn sun I am waiting to hear you footsteps crunch them and for moments to be shared, anew.
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