The wind reeks of broken words
and shattered promises
my mouth is full of every mirror
I have stared into
I cannot breathe with all of the glass stuck within my lungs
I am drying out the summertime memories
where the breeze didn’t remind me of
burnt photographs
and I am stuck in the subsequential
stutter of a back alley robbery that ends up with me ****** and empty
I am a poem that nobody wishes to read
because my words remind them of obituaries
I am an empty dictionary in which
there aren’t enough side notes in
i am the blank definition
to a smile that tastes like
bad memories
I refuse to add myself to the masses of one night stands
with previous versions of myself
I am tired of sleeping in coffins
or is it just a bed without you
I can’t differentiate between the two
All I am certain of is that
if you were a broken word
I would cut my tongue on your syllables any day of the week.