I try to write but it's only you in the words.
The ink in my veins is not easily haunted;
the receding shadows of my sanity is in those words.
I seem to be living in a dream.
I see your eyes in my memory and they ignite me: words.
The days float-tick-fly-crawl-slide by.
The only thing that tethers me is my words.
I wonder if you know I dream of you?
I can't do them justice with mere words.
Some days my heart is heavy - shattering again.
I mop up the blood and bind it with words.
You say 'Courtney' and I'm yours.
It's the sound of your voice that takes me, not the words.
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