Your name is buried under my tongue
Its syllables percolate through
My taste buds haven't settled yet
The morphology of the word, its bones
will now turn into brittle dust
Debris will injure me -
I am afraid of the power of words
Because a simple one lay heavily -
Inducing landslides of rubble inside.
One day it will come back
In another form unknown to me
To either bring me back to life:
Fire versus. Fire
Or put me to sleep
caught restlessly in the void
Not finding a way to forget;
Or be forgotten.