I’ve lost you beneath my words, my dear,
As similes drown your voice.
I’ve murdered you with metaphors,
You left me with no choice.

I’ve remembered you with language,
As I recreate what you never said.
I’ve painted you with prose, alas,
Holding you captive in my head.

I’ve carved you out of daydreams,
By whittling away at the tangible.
Everything is always what it seems,
As long as it is deemed manageable.

Oh, I’ve set free you’re emotions,
And the feelings which you’ve evoked.
By drowning you in the ocean,
Of the language which you provoke.

© Meka Boyle