Author Information
Words Die
If only spoken words died
As beautifully as leaves
Blazing as they fizzle
But they dully die into silence
Briefly after mixing
With the breath
Escaping your beauteous lips
With nothing analogous
To autumn's bright death throes
Memory corrupts them
With its mingling and decay
Until only poor reproductions
Remain possible
But the emotions
To which they're tethered
Remain ice pick sharp
