Tue, 07/02/2013 - 21:15 -- svc1950

Words are spelled differently in languages I don't speak,

but they all mean the same when they're about you.

Words are just tiny black lines and curves,

but attached they become the things you used to say to me, too.


Words, with the different arragements you chose,

make up everything that I see.

And words left behind that float around inside,

seem still  to have power over me.


I write to be free of your poison laced tongue--

words will show you how I feel.

I write to remember and I write to forget.

Your words hurt but my words heal.


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