# Post 4 (Lovestoned)
Forceful fingers cling
On to words that say:
Okay, let’s talk.
What if I told you to sing me that song
And, play that tune?
Would you then want me to leave?
Is it hard
To catch the winged words that dance over us both?
I live in this world fuelled by my own promises,
Speaking tales of worship not worth collecting
And easy lies that feel so new.
Silent stories are memories conjured;
Coloured and soaked in crimson so deep
The curve of my lips
– The same weight my hips
Are forced to carry –
Vomited in omission.
But you look at me, eyes big and bright –
And mine as well,
Untouched by that kaleidoscope of haze (just yet) –
Hanging out for words; apologies.
As if, it’s really what I want to hear.
And I still remember the hype filled smoke,
Talking about the inferno
In your eyes.