Only words

Art as life, art is life, ought not to be rendered post expression as it is expression and that is all it ever has been. Ought not to be judged as in "Ours is not to reason why...".

The night I told the truth

Those words I uttered at you

in between gasps and cries,

are still attached;

hands gesture, reaching out,

pushing the words into

the depths of your memories.

Even if they stay unequalled,

never shall they be forgotten.

And every time you swat at them

like flies,

you dust the very breath

from my lungs.