Your sentences were gated,
And locked within your lungs -
Your words forbidden fruit to me,
The apple of your tongue.
The uninspired oft’ find it hard
To leave another’s song unsung.
So I harvested your phrases -
I burglarized your breath,
And nurtured all your laden words
‘Till there was nothing left.
And living with your hollowed words,
I died a stolen death.
Dec 29, 2017
Dec 29, 2017 at 2:08 PM UTC
Your sentences were gated,
And locked within your lungs -
Your words forbidden fruit to me,
The apple of your tongue.
The uninspired oft’ find it hard
To leave another’s song unsung.
So I harvested your phrases -
I burglarized your breath,
And nurtured all your laden words
‘Till there was nothing left.
And living with your hollowed words,
I died a stolen death.
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