The words will never come
when you want them,
and rarely show up when you need them.
The words were you.
You were never there.
While at the same time,
words were all you were.
Such a way with words you had.
It’s always the words that draw me in,
and do me in.
And it’s always the words that fail me.
And in sweet irony, it’s the words that save me.
Every damn time.
And now I’m bawling….
There’s no crying in poetry!! 😉
Um, then I’ve been doing poetry wrong… 😉