(Inspired by a line in a poem that I can't remember)
words have no meaning anymore.
they should be rationed -
luxuries at wartime, like
chocolates or pearls or
steel.
i would save mine up
hide them away behind
my eyes so that
people
couldn't steal them.
lock them up with an
i-don't-need-to-say-anything-to-you
stare.
and then at the end of the day
when the sun deflates
and sinks behind the wirestrung
livingbreathing buildings
i run home
taking the backalleys filled with
cats and dogs and trashcans and something else that
i don't want to know about
to use my words that i saved up and wrapped
in tinsel whispers
"I love you."