Speak to Me

O, Speak to me your lover’s tongue…

I yearn to hear the passage on which you withered and hung.  Show me the face of praise, each time you gave, when she sang out in words unsung. 

Can you still hear her silent scream in a language owned by one?

Did you know she’d rather pick the scab than heal the need, your script…her outcome.

You see, I can never be,
that spade, your lover’s tongue…

For she lives within me, a cursed chameleon.

Jemfyr  ©

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