All I Have Is My Words

They say; a word is just a word, but I think writers know better. To a writer letters and words are a gift given to us, so that we can make sense of the senseless. With them we are able to create great stories; stories of love, hate, desire, fear, life and of so much more. If a word is just a word, how come they are so important to us? How come they do hurt us? How come they do sooth us? How come they do make somewhat of a difference?
With the following collection of poems I hope that you too, dear reader will question the saying; a word is just a word, for it is not just a word is it?


23. Buying Flowers

Our love has left me dead.

Let us go back to where we met;

At that simple corner store,

When all we wanted was a little more.


Buying flowers to take back lies.

I could tell by the look in your eyes;

That love of yours was the world,

Until you saw me the town’s new girl.


It was not by the books.

We sent glances and secret looks.

You gave her all and kissed her cheek,

But it was my knees that went weak.


I never heard her cry or plead.

Yet I could do nothing to compete.

Your mind was as settled as the wind,

With eyes staring at how we had sinned.


One morning so close to being caught.

An excuse so cheaply bought;

A note left on my bed sheet,

Then sorry steps in the street.


Our love did leave me dead.

I went back to where we met;

You I found in that corner store,

Now who are you buying flowers for?


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