The Pen is My Sword

Such power that exists in a single word-
A lone phrase
We sacrifice our lives, our well-being, our sanity
For one brief moment
A moment that no word can fully express
No emotion can define
No explanation can quantify
For the emotion is beyond the word
Beyond what our minds can conceive
Yet these words that hold such power
The power to make men move mountains
And fall to their knees
Just for the promise of a love that may be
No word
No phrase
Can rectify this situation
Can take us back the time when passion was in our hearts
And love was the ultimate destination
And yet all I have are my words
Words that cannot begin to describe the pain weighing on my heart
The pen is my sword, but it is also my enemy
Because the words I wish to use no longer apply
They are replaced by others
Words that lack passion and beauty
Words that fall flat to the ground as if weights were pulling them down
Words that are heavy and unwelcome in my speech
But now these words, words that used to mirror the flutter of my heartbeat as I was with you
Now embody another emotion
An emotion wrought with despair and emptiness
It’s as though I am not only mourning the loss of a love
But I mourn the loss of the words tied to that feeling
And yet how is it that while we are loved we forget
We forget that these words we speak to one, were spoken to another
These same words
These same phrases
Perhaps our hearts do not break, but rather bend, just to be mended

The dichotomous nature of words-
Words that can describe both love and misery
There lies the rub
No matter how many scars and bruises our hearts may conceal,
Words spoken with sentiment and honesty repair these wounds
One word spoken with fervor is worth a thousand spoken with refinement