Words, My Words

Words, my words,

You and I, we were always one,

I followed your essence, like a sunflower waiting for the sun...

And on nights, and on days,

When nothing was left to hold,

You let me fall into your arms,

A peaceful place called home...

And I cried, and I begged,

To my death, when I bled,

Your scent calmed me down,

Rosemary on my coffin...

You let me liberate my soul,

Through poetry, and musings,

Oh so beautiful, so kind,

So warming you were to me,

How you haunted me for years,

When I failed to see your worth...

I failed to praise your beauty,

Then you punished me for so long,

Always on the tip of my fingers,

But never poured out...

I stumbled on your shadows,

Slipping on the thorns,

While reaching for my rose,

And then I bled the words out...

Words, my words,

They call me a writer,

How do I tell them, that you write me?