We sat in the same abandoned library
but our words were tangled
to our own tongues
letting questions
subconsciously
consume
our wandering minds

Perhaps,
words are not clever enough
to arrange jumbled thoughts?

Perhaps,
words are too child's play
to find a way
out of paradoxical days?

Perhaps,
words are not tough enough
to carry that much
bitter tragedies
of dusty love stories?

Perhaps,
words are too clear
to cover
every wherefore
behind every tear?

Or
perhaps,
words are nothing but
words
you didn't spill them
since you *didn't love me