Unspoken words are best heard.
From the second the word left the mouth,
He should be chased, surrounded and summoned to surrender!
Before he reaches the target.
Rough, soft, loving, playful or dry,
No matter how he’d walk off the tip of the lips,
He’s getting lost.
Deformed by the air, by the bodies that he passes by with the bullet speed,
By the sun, the sky, the birds fluttering on his path
By the opening of the ear that receives him
He rests in the sharpness of the recipient’s mind
And he is delivered as deformed, directly into the heart.
A word should not have to tramp so much between two hearts.
