The Words

I fear, one day, that I will run out of the words
Talking words
Silent words
Silent as the grave in which I dug them out

I could write
On paper
Long since forgotten
Blown away in the wind
Torn in frustration
Crumpled under fast paced walkers
Used as a napkin for that smear of mustard dribbled down your shirt
Your pants
Your jacket

I fear, one day, that I will lose the words
Saved on a floppy disk
Noted on a recorder
Wet
Wet
Washed away with rain captured in a storm drain
A tiny voice drowned out
“In my…lifetime…if I was only to write one…one…on…o…”

The words become nothing
Lost
Unspoken
I sit

“I have hated the words,
And I have loved them”

I fear, one day, I will run out of

– Megan Lacombe

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