From A Collection ‘Of Earth and Sky’
Amy B Garratt
Speak to me in whispers, in silence, in a language of the dead.
Words cannot be taken back after they escape your tongue.
Recant, repent, but they still live in the air.
Like smoke, cannot be recaptured.
Breathe in the dawn scent of realisation, the dawning understanding
that words can maim more than a sword.
They can be loving and sweet,
or filled with shadows and cold.
They linger, lasting longer than our flesh.
Tied with love, promises and vows.
Tied with hurt, betrayal and melancholy.
Words can last a hundred lifetimes, long after the writers gone
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