But you left.

-
Of all the unspoken stories, tonight;

This will ring the loudest,

That I had all my words to give you-

Built from scratch,till they grew-

In such painstaking earnest.


I took my time to let the words

Flow in and through my veins.

Till one day, they blossomed and out came tumbling;

Not held back by the littlest stumbling,

Fiery deep; like marks of Cain.


You didn't know that tonight I dressed,

in my word woven garment.

I fancied that you will pluck them all,

Words that lay stitched and held me in thrall,

The fruit of an artist, ardent.


But you left.


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