Words skinned and numbed
by too many bricks,
slip out past your hollow tounge
and through your silk teeth.

Your words fall to the earth like milk;
creamy and assuring.

They flow over sticky cobblestones
and gather in puddles around my feet.

Gently, they wind around my ankles
and slip through my belt loops
until they are snaked around my waist
and teething on my lips.

Your words smell like you:
The sweet saline smell of tears.

They tug at my eyelids
until I close them,

and stick to the inside of my skull
so I can enjoy them later.