Once
it used to be dancing around
With them.
Oscilatting,
holding hands and spinning
Around and around
The
velocity of creation, drunken dizziness.
Now
I tippy toe around them,
Afraid
they will scare off
Scared
they are afraid of me, now.
More
often than not, I cannot find them.
Words
hide. From me, they lie low.
A
tall pink alabaster wall, impossible to climb.
Concealed
behind their definitions.
Refusing to get used, by me.
I
miss turning around and seeing them there, just sitting, maybe with a cigarette
or a lollypop, willing time away, waiting,
For me.
We
used to have fun together, words and I.
It
was my sickness, it was my disease, it was my pain which drove them away.
It
was my pain which eclipsed them, away.
Now,
apprehensive that their self esteem will be subdued by my physicality,
They prefer not to engage. With me
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