Don’t Ask Me For Words

You asked me for words,
and that I cannot do.
I resent you for asking,
but maybe I should cast
pity on how little you know.

You poor little fool,
the worst a man can be.
Deluded little beautiful fool.
You’re the worst I’ve yet seen.

Do you misconstrue
me or the act of love
itself? In sending
thoughts in lettered
drafts, through phrase
or by mouth.

I couldn’t give you words,
what caused you to even ask?

To give you words, single
or few – would to give
my soul – and why would I
give that to you?

Now I’ve wasted words,
thousands upon more,
I’ve wasted my soul to
the wrong receiver.

And even still I wouldn’t
offer you one.
I wouldn’t dare.

Why would you ask, what
would make you think
that I’d give you them so
freely…?

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