I let them rot
On my tongue.
Held them captive
Until the sweet things
Got infested with molds,
Until nothing remains of them
But the bitter aftertaste of regret.
I let them all
Spoil in my heart.
Caged them in until
They are black with rot,
Until my heart festered too-
A black, hollowed-out muscle.
A graveyard for decayed promises.
YOU ARE READING
A Graveyard Of Words
PoetryA poetry collection ------------------- My words will just die without having been read My voice will only be swallowed by the cavern of thoughts without leaving an echo My stories will cease to exist. COMPLETED. ©bil garcia/ flightywords
