the lost book of my words

my love- where have you gone to?

these love bites won’t do..

nor the whispers of professing strangers that we save

 in our heads for future reference

enamoured and useless both at once- where are my words

, the thesaurus has gone dry: where are [my] spices?

i like to keep them neat- in a row, first the cardamom, then the cinnamon [...]

have you seen them, mi querido¿

my words, those silky things in lace, fingering things

 that shouldn’t be fingered, always finding hiding places in holes....

i don’t know what to say, perhaps the goblins stole them

 from me- oh but a poet? believing in the likes of such

 mystical creatures? is that ever a puzzle piece worth finding?

worth fighting for, yes!

though, this lack of faith is binding me and so i must leave.... there... oh there!!

oh gosh!

where ever could they be...... those darned words.....