Words

I stumbled over words and grazed my heart
I thought I saw the truth within a rhyme
But writers can’t trusted for their art
Is just to sweeten cheap and hackneyed line
Comparison to summer’s day is trite
And music often feeds the love we lost
I think that love requires a second sight
And rides that fall are rarely worth the cost
Remember love’s a verb a doing word
It’s not a state that we recover from
A writer’s actions should seen not heard
And love is not three minutes in a song
Unbreak my heart for it is carved in wood
If words are all you have then you’re no good

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Author: thepoetautist

A Gay poet of fifty odd years who is currently living in Cambodia.

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