DEAD LANGUAGE.

Your words, always.

Your sweet, graceful, delicate words.

Dance their way out of your mouth

Agile and fluid;

Swim into my ear.

Tapping on my drums -

A delightful beat for my brain to swallow.

A continuous train, they seem to just...

Fall out of your mouth.

An overflow of rushing water,

I drink them in greedily.

My heart thumps in my throat,

Now slick with your words

As my own struggle to climb their way up.

Yours keep spilling into me,

Echoing in my hollowness,

Dividing and multiplying -

Foreign parasites residing inside of us both.

Clumsily, I stutter back at you,

Choking on the awkward shapes,

The clashing sound of my own

Inadequate words assaulting my

Overwhelmed ears.

How perfectly you form language.

How jealously my heart breaks,

Knowing I can never be enough.

Your words, again.

Your words, coming at me angrily,

Irritating my mourning ears.

I want to tell you...

I have nothing left.

I want to tell you...

Leave now, while you can.

But I am too weak.

And they are still marching out of you,

Oblivious to the knife in my hand.

I want to plunge it into myself.

But I am too selfish.

I need you -

I need you gone.

The first time, you are shocked.

And for a moment, there is complete silence.

You ruin it, gasping for life.

You keep speaking to me,

Asking - Why?

The second time, I squeeze my eyes shut.

Shaking you out of my head.

As you still repeat yourself,

Choking, like me.

On your blood, and your words.

The third time, I taste your blood

In the back of my throat,

Bubbling with your persistent speech.

I see them -

Clawing at your skin,

Begging to be let out.

Have you learned your lesson?

You understand now, as I sew your lips shut.

My words, this time.

My words, seeping out of my mouth.

As I lean in toward your still body,

Cheek to cheek;

Mouth to ear;

A drop of blood spills from your lips,

Into the shell of my pounding ears,

Slips clear into my brain,

And I am you.

I taste your blood in my mouth.

I hear your thoughts in my mind.

I feel the blade in my heart.

All as my own.

Finally, I have the words -

I whisper into your ear now,

Sweetly, gracefully, delicately,

"I love you," I say.

But I'm not sorry.