I’m not sure which is more pleasurable
The last ounce of sugar on my tongue
The echo unsung
Or the quiet words in perfect unison
Sung, a most capable accompaniment
The kind which doesn’t make me feel alone
In the silence of a broken room
Your song sings words to the reticent me
Make me feel both old and new
Jul 24, 2019
Jul 24, 2019 at 9:51 AM UTC
I’m not sure which is more pleasurable
The last ounce of sugar on my tongue
The echo unsung
Or the quiet words in perfect unison
Sung, a most capable accompaniment
The kind which doesn’t make me feel alone
In the silence of a broken room
Your song sings words to the reticent me
Make me feel both old and new
Words really do mean more at night, like a song.
